Walking Away
by Fleur27
Summary: Tim walks away from San Antonio State and tries to figure out what happens next in his life. Tim, Billy, Lyla, OC, and probably other FNL characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: This is my first try at this sort of thing. Parts of the story have been rolling around in my brain for a while, but I'm not exactly sure where it's going to go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride.**

Tim realized now that he should have seen the signs. Their first year apart had been rocky, but they'd survived. They had a great summer, even though Lyla seemed a little distant at times. Now, when he looked back, he could see the red flags he'd missed the first time around. Especially the admiration in her voice when she talked about Rafe. How he spoke French and real Spanish, the kind they speak in Spain. Not the Mexican Spanish that they learn in high school in Texas.

Everything in Vanderbilt was different, better, more cultured than what they had in Texas. And while he knew that was the whole reason that he'd told her to go, it didn't make it hurt any less when she talked about all her fancy new friends. Especially Rafe.

Rafe? What the hell kind of name was that anyway? Tim sighed and shook his head, reminding himself to focus on the road. The last thing he needed right now was to get a speeding ticket or have an accident. It was bad enough to be driving home from San Antonio State in disgrace.

It seemed like such a good plan, in theory. Lyla's birthday was on a Wednesday. He'd go to morning practice on the Wednesday, then drive to the airport for his flight to Nashville. Hitchhike or catch a cab to the college and surprise Lyla. Have a great night together, go back on Thursday, just in time for afternoon practice. He'd only miss two practices. He knew he'd probably have to do something to make up for it, maybe run the stairs until his legs fell off, but it would all be worth it to see Lyla's face when she opened the door and saw him standing there. Plus, when he took out her birthday present, which was inside a black velvet-lined jewelry box small enough to hide in his fist like a magician, well, he definitely knew it would all be worth it.

He realized now that maybe he should have told the coach, made up some excuse - a funeral or something. But Tim operated on the princple that it was easier to get forgiveness than permission, so he'd jumped into this birthday surprise plan with both feet. It went great, all the way up until the moment when he arrived at the campus. It was so much nicer than San Antonio State, all trees, perfect lawns, and brick walkways. He felt lost even though he had a map in one hand, her present in the other, and knew exactly where he was going and why.

He was walking briskly up the path toward her dorm when he passed a couple kissing near a tree. The girl's dress, a white cotton number that was perfect for the muggy Indian Summer day, reminded him of Lyla and Mexico. He smiled and allowed himself another glance at the couple. He didn't want to be that freaky guy who stares at PDAs, but he figured a quick look wouldn't hurt.

Only it hurt more than he could have imagined, since he quickly saw that the white dress reminded him of Lyla because it was her dress, and she was wearing it while kissing some guy. He wanted to tackle the guy and hurt him, seriously hurt him, but he found his muscles wouldn't listen to him. He was frozen on the spot. The couple stopped kissing and started walking toward him.

He watched the emotions that moved over Lyla's face - first puzzlement, then surprise, then guilt. The guilt stuck around for several seconds, but then was replaced by something that made him sad. It was the look you get before you have to do something you don't want to do, something like put a beloved pet to sleep. A complicated mixture of pity, sorrow, and determination.

She said something to the guy in Spanish. Or maybe it was French. Tim had no idea, but whatever it was, the guy took a few steps backwards and then walked away. Tim watched him leave, annoyed that he only moved off about a hundred feet, as though he felt he had to monitor the situation.

"What are you doing here?" Lyla asked.

"Who's that?" Tim's voice was low and raspy. He decided that no matter what happened, he was going to get through the conversation without crying or getting angry. He was giving her nothing. Not if he could help it.

"Rafe." She looked at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Lyla." Tim turned and walked away. He ignored her calls for him to come back. He kept his back straight and his head up all the way to the airport. Only then did he allow himself to slouch, but he still wasn't giving anymore than that. He stopped in the bathroom first and washed his face, wishing he could rinse the whole experience off and watch it swirl down the silver drain.

In a moment of anger and irrationality, he considered tosssing her gift in the trash. He took a deep breath and let it out through puffed-out cheeks, then decided to bury the small box in the bottom of his backpack instead.

He tried to get an earlier flight, but everything was booked. He spent most of the evening in the airport bar and the rest of the night passed out in an uncomfortable airport chair. He didn't hear the thunder as the worst storms in 100 years moved across the Plains and hit Nashville with a vengence. He knew nothing about it as he stumbled toward the gate just before his flight was due to take off.

The flight was cancelled. In fact, all the flights for the day were cancelled. He tried to get a flight out on Friday, but the earliest they could fit him in was Sunday night. He wasn't just missing practices. Now he was going to miss a game. He knew that forgiveness from the coach probably wasn't an option anymore. He called the coach's office phone in the middle of the night and left a garbled message.

He realized now, from the altogether different perspective of his truck on the way back to Dillon, that the message had been a mistake. It made it sound like he was on a several day bender. Which he sort of was, having nothing else to do at the airport. But he wasn't missing the game because of the alcohol. He saw now how the coach could apply the logic of cause and effect and come to the wrong conclusion.

When he'd finally returned to the dorm, his roommate, a sophomore cornerback, confirmed that he was in more trouble than trouble itself. Tim looked around the room and weighed his options. The way he saw it, he could wait until the next morning to get kicked off the team, lose his scholarship, and go home in disgrace. Or he could hit the road now.

Which is how he found himself pulling into Riggins' Rigs at 3 am. He knew he could have gone home. He thought Mindy or Billy might be up with the baby anyway, but he wasn't quite ready to face their disappointment. Not quite yet. He needed at least a half-a-night's decent sleep first. So he let himself into the garage, curled up on the old black couch that was just slightly more comfortable than the airport chair and fell asleep.

His sleep was deep and dreamless until the morning, when he started to dream that a giant beast had cornered him and was about to hurt him. He panicked and jerked away, only to find himself face-to-face with a growling dog. A big, black growling dog.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: I'm not sure if this should have been mentioned before Chapter 1, but this takes place during Tim and Lyla's sophomore year in college. Also, I haven't mentioned it yet, but Billy and Minday have two kids. **

Tim wanted to put as much space as possible between him and the snarling dog, but his back was already up against the back of the narrow couch. He didn't know what to do. If he sat up, would that set off the dog? Was he supposed to look at it? Not look at it? He tried to remember anything he'd ever seen on television about dogs, but the only thing that popped into his head with the scene in "Jurassic Park," where they stayed very still so the T-Rex couldn't see them. Completely useless.

"Here's how it's going to work. I'll get Bruno to back off and you're going to walk straight outta here without any hassle. You cool with that?" The voice was on the lower, husky side, but definitely belonged to a woman. Tim has been so focused on the dog, he didn't see the person standing on the other side of the garage.

"I don't know who you are, lady, but my brother owns this place."

"Tim?"

"Yeah. Who the hell are you?" Tim was confused. He knew Billy had hired someone to help out at the garage, but he thought it was a guy. Abe? Adam? Albert? Some name that started with A. It seemed like whenever he and Billy talked, it was a rushed conversation, on bad cell phone lines, with the new baby wailing in the background. They weren't much for talking anyway and the phone just made it worse.

The woman whistled and the dog trotted over to her side. Tim jumped up from the couch, ignoring the groans in some of his muscles and joints. He ran a hand through his hair and watched as the woman approached him. She was tiny, couldn't be more than five feet or weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Hell, the dog probably weighed more than she did. Her hair was a riot of blonde curls that she'd managed to corral into an unruly ponytail. She was wearing baggy gray combat pants and a light blue button-down shirt with a name patch.

"I'm Al," she said with a smile, extending her hand.

Tim's hand swallowed her tiny one and he was afraid to squeeze too hard. She didn't have any such fear. Her handshake was firm almost to the point of uncomfortableness.

"I thought you were a guy. I mean, not now... obviously you're a girl, but Billy said he hired someone..." Tim shook his head and let the sentence trail off. It was early in the morning, his life was shit, and now he was sounding like Saracen or something. The worst part was that he was pretty sure this was going to be the highlight of his day. Once Billy heard what happened, well, Tim didn't want to think about it.

Al smiled. "Yeah, well, happens all the time. This is Bruno. Say hi, Bruno."

The dog barked once and gave Tim his paw.

Tim smiled, surprised by the change in the dog. He gave the mutt a scratch behind the ears.

"What kind of dog is he? He's ginormous!"

"Great Dane. And first impressions aside, he's actually a sweetheart. A bit protective of me, though, and I was surprised and a little scared to find someone in here."

Bruno was now standing next to Tim, leaning up against him. The weight of the dog was somehow comforting and Tim absentmindedly pet him.

"Wouldn't want to get on his bad side, Hey, what time is it?" asked Tim.

"Six-thirty. Come on, I'm going to make some coffee before the mad rush starts. You look like you could use some."

---


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim stretched and then followed her into the break room, which was really just a small kitchen with a table and some chairs. When Tim had worked here over the summer, it had been a total disaster area. He was surprised to find it spotless. Al ground some coffee beans in a machine that made Tim's ears hurt. Then she put it into this thing that looked like it came from the chemistry lab at school.

"What's that?"

"That's how I make coffee."

"What's wrong with a Mr. Coffee machine?"

She shrugged. "I just like it this way."

She put the coffee maker thing on the table and got a couple of mugs from a cupboard.

"It'll be a few minutes."

They both sat down at the table in silence. It wasn't awkward, exactly, but Tim was surprised she wasn't asking him questions. Maybe Billy didn't know. Maybe he could somehow let him know in a way that wouldn't cause Billy to get upset.

"Billy knows," said Al.

Tim's head jerked up and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Knows what?"

"Knows that you went AWOL from school. And yeah, he's as pissed as you imagine and then some."

Tim groaned, planted his elbows on the table and hid his face in his hands. He composed himself after a minute and then looked up at Al, who was pouring a cup of coffee. She pushed it over to him and then poured one for herself. Tim dumped four spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. He noticed that she was drinking hers black, no sugar or anything.

"How?"

"The coach called him late Friday night. But even if he hadn't, you picked a crappy game to disappear. Oklahoma - you know it was on ESPN, right?"

Tim cursed under his breath and took a sip of his coffee. It was good, really good. So much better than the weak crap he got at the school cafeteria.

"So pretty much the whole world knows I missed the game?"

Al nodded, but said nothing else. She was just drinking her coffee, like it was no big deal, like they were old friends who did this all the time.

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Ask me what happened? Where I was? What's going on? Why am I here? There are about four hundred things you could be asking me."

"How's your coffee?" She had an impish grin. With her sharp features and small size, she reminded Tim of a pixie from one of those video games Landry liked to play.

Tim blinked, confused. "Nice. It's real nice."

Al sighed and put her mug down on the table. "Look, Tim, I've known you all of ten minutes. It ain't my business to get all up in your business. And really, you're going to do a lot of explaining and talking today. So, whatever you want to tell me, fine. But I think you should save it for the guy who really matters, the boss."

Before Tim could respond, they were interrupted by the ding of a bell. She stood and picked up her mug.

"That's got to be Mr. Trucks. He's always too damn early."

She left Tim alone with his coffee and his thoughts.

---


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim finished his coffee before wandering back into the garage. He found Al up to her elbows in the engine of a Honda Civic, Bruno stretched out and sleeping near her feet. He tried to remember what Billy had told him about "the new guy." Great with cars, good business mind, insisted they get a computer to track the books and customers and stuff.

"Hey, Al, when does Billy get in?"

"I don't know. Depends on how his night was with the baby. Anytime between 7 and 10, really."

Tim jammed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. He didn't know if it would be better to go to the house and confront Billy's anger there. Or wait for him, which felt like waiting for a firing squad. He was thinking maybe the garage, a sort of public place, might be better. Or it could be worse. He sighed because it felt like he was just going to make the wrong decision anyway. It seemed to be the only kind that he ever made.

"Is your name Alison?"

"Huh, what? No." Al's head was still under the hood and her voice was slightly muffled. Tim smiled. You wouldn't expect such a big, husky voice to come out of such a little person. It reminded him of an actress in one of those black and white films Lyla had made him watch. Lyla. He shook his head, hoping to dislodge the image of her and Rafe.

"Then what's Al short for?"

"Nothing. It's from that song - 'You Can Call Me Al.'"

Tim sensed there was a story there, but Al didn't continue. He was about to ask her what her real name was when Billy came into the shop. When he spotted Tim, his stride lengthened to cover the distance between them more quickly and he stretched his arm out, pointing an accusing finger.

"You've got about 15 seconds to get your ass in the truck so we can get you back to school."

Pissed didn't even start to cover it. Enraged would be closer to the mark.

"Billy, let me explain."

"Oh, you'll explain. But you'll be doing it in the truck."

"I'm not going back." Tim's voice was quiet, but firm. He meant it, too. He was done trying to be who other people wanted him to be. It wasn't worth it.

"Yes you are, Tim. This isn't a negotiation. This is you, getting your ass in my truck, so we can straighten out this god-awful mess you've made."

"Billy, I'm not going back." He hung his head, refusing to look at the pain and anger on his brother's face.

Billy reached out to grab Tim's shirt, but the younger brother's reflexes were faster and he stepped back. Billy reached out again, but Tim slapped his hands away. Bad idea. Billy grabbed him and it looked like it could turn into another famous Riggins' brothers fight. Except that Tim felt a small hand on his chest, pushing him backwards. He looked down and Al was standing in between them, pushing them apart. Nearby, Bruno growled a warning.

"Easy now. Easy. I know you boys don't really want to fight." Al's voice was soothing and calm. Tim put his hands up and took a few steps back. Billy released his grip on Tim's shirt, but still looked like he'd was more than ready to go a few rounds.

"Stay out of this, Al," said Billy without turning his angry stare away from his brother.

"Billy." She didn't say anything more, but somehow that single word conveyed a world of meaning. Billy's shoulders slumped and all of the fight drained out of him. Tim was surprised and impressed. It was like the Jedi mind trick or something.

"Tim, I just want what's best for you. I talked to the coach just last night and think he'll be willing to listen to you and work something out. I mean, you're not getting away with this, but you're not off the team or anything."

"I am, Billy. Because I'm done. Done trying to be someone else. I never wanted to go to college in the first place."

"But, your future-"

Tim cut his brother off with a short burst of bitter laughter. "Billy, who are we trying to kid here? I'm never going to work on Wall Street or NASA or be a lawyer or a doctor. My major was Parks and Recreation Management, for god's sakes. It was just a major in playin' football and I'm not NFL material either, so what's the point?"

Billy shook his head. "The point is that college is important."

"It was important to you. But not to me. And I'm done."

"Tim, if you just stop and think about what you're throwing away. What's Lyla going to say?"

Tim shook his head and looked at the ground.

"Shit, Tim, what happened?" Billy's voice had softened and when Tim looked at his face, he saw that his brother's anger had been replaced by something worse: pity.

Tim shook his head again. "Can I just work here for now and we'll figure out my future another day?"

Billy crossed his arms and stared at Tim.

"Billy," said Al in a soft voice, "You know we're slammed right now. We've got at least three days of work backed up and more customers want to drop their cars off today

"OK. OK. But just until we're caught up. And you better get yourself back into the office and call the coach."

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Al stopped him. He nodded and headed back there, dreading the call.

----


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: I know where this story is going in the short term, but I****'m having a hard time struggling with how to set everything up. Hopefully this chapter and the next few won't be too boring. **

In the office, Tim took out his cell phone to get the coach's number. He'd had it turned off since Wednesday and he had many missed calls and angry messages from Billy and the coach. But there was just a single message from Lyla and he couldn't face listening to it. The fact that she'd only called once told him everything he needed to know.

Tim took a deep breath and dialed the number for the coach's office phone. He was hoping to get the voice mail again but wasn't so lucky.

"Caviston."

"Uh, Coach, this is Tim...Riggins. I was just calling to apologize for missing practice and the game. And to tell you that I'm quitting the team." He spoke slowly and uncertainly and then braced himself for the Coach's anger. He waited to hear how he'd let the team down (which is what Coach Taylor would say) or how the coach had always known that Tim would never amount to anything (which is what Coach McGregor would say).

"You sure about this?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK. You have until six o'clock tonight to clean out your locker. Otherwise, your stuff will be thrown out." The coach hung up the phone.

Somehow, the man's indifference hurt more than if he'd hurled insults or told Tim how disappointed he was. That the coach felt nothing for him made him feel like nothing. Combined with Lyla's only calling him once, he felt as bad as he had in several years.

He went back out to the garage and headed for the beer fridge, an ancient refrigerator that ran exceptionally cold and was perfect for chilling bottles of beer. Tim swung the door open and was greeted not by the welcome sight of Lone Star, but neatly stacked cans of Coke and diet Coke. The racks on the door held an assortment of juices and iced tea.

Tim checked the fridge in the break room, but didn't have any beer either. He found Billy at the hydraulic lift, replacing the exhaust system on an old pickup truck.

"Billy, where's the beer?"

"Yeah, about that..." Billy looked somewhat sheepish as he continued. "Well, you see, things have sort of changed around here."

"Changed how?"

"It just don't look real professional to a customer if he comes in and finds his mechanic drinking beer, you know?"

"No, Billy, I don't know. Long as the car gets fixed, what's it matter?" Tim ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He looked up and saw Al, who was still working away on the Civic.

"It matters, Tim. All of it matters."

"Was this her idea?"

Billy paused, looking for a second like a kid who'd just realized he was caught. "No. No, of course not. I'm still the boss around here. And we have Beer Fridays, anyway."

"So, we can drink beer on Fridays?"

"Well, at four o'clock on Fridays, after we're closed."

Tim shook his head and started to walk away. Billy grabbed his arm. "Look, Tim, things are going really good here. We got more business than we can handle and even though I'm still pissed at you for the college thing, I need you here."

Tim met Billy's eyes and nodded. It wasn't going to be like it was the last summer, but it wasn't going to be as bad as college. It would be better than sitting in boring classes. Having to wake up for 6am practices. Being around people who didn't understand him at all. He could do this, even without beer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: I know where this story is going in the short term, but I****'m having a hard time struggling with how to set everything up. Hopefully this chapter and the next few won't be too boring. **

While Tim fell into a comfortable work pattern at the garage over the next few days, he was having a rough time adjusting to life in Billy and Mindy's house. And it was _their_ house now. Tim felt like a guest, and not always a welcome one.

For two tiny people, the kids, Amber and T.J., seemed to take over the home. Their toys and clothes covered every available surface. Mindy had turned his room into Amber's room. The lights, steer horns, and paneling were all gone, replaced with Disney Princesses wallpaper and shelves lined with more toys. His comfortable double bed was also gone and he was sleeping on a short, narrow twin bed that Billy had bought for when Amber was bigger. At nearly a year old, she was still sleeping in a crib.

At least T.J. slept in Billy and Mindy's room, which meant that Tim didn't get woken up quite as often as they did. But the kid could still scream the house down when he wanted to, which usually seemed to happen in the ungodly early hours of the morning. The baby was six weeks old and Tim wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was afraid of his nephew's fragile head and wobbly neck.

Friday morning, Amber's screaming woke Tim up at 4am. He stood next to the crib, uncertainly rubbing her back. He felt helpless until Billy came in, eyes half-closed, and scooped up the little girl. Tim wanted to apologize. He also wanted to go back to sleep. But he seemed incapable of doing either.

Instead, he showered, got dressed, and went into the garage. He emptied a shipment of parts and supplies they'd received late the previous day and then it was nearly time for Al to arrive. He went into the kitchen and made coffee for them both, so it would be ready for her. Tim was surprised by how much he enjoyed working with Al. She was wickedly funny and had a gentle, easy way about her.

She also really got Billy. She was somehow able to always get her way while making Billy think it was all his idea. She understood his need to be the boss. Where Tim sometimes wanted to argue with him, Al was able to bypass the arguing and get right to the solution.

Bruno arrived in the break room a few seconds before his owner. The dog's tail flew in crazy circles, what Al called Helicopter Tail, when he saw Tim. Hard to believe this was the same dog that had nearly made him piss his pants just four days earlier.

"Mornin', Al. I made the coffee."

She smiled. "I can see that. Thanks. What the hell are you doing here so early?"

Tim poured them each a cup of coffee and they sat down at the table.

"Amber had a nightmare or something. I don't know how Billy and Mindy do it. The sleep deprivation is nearly killing me and I don't even have to get up to feed T.J." He shook his head. This having kids thing seemed impossible. If he hadn't already been a firm believer in birth control, the last few days would have converted him for sure.

"How's Mindy doing?"

"I feel bad for her and everything, but-"

Al cut him off. "In the interests of full disclosure, I should inform you that she is my cousin and one of my very best friends, just in case Billy hasn't already filled you in. So you'd best select your words with extreme caution."

"Why are you talkin' like a lawyer?" Tim didn't know which surprised him more, what she just said or how she said it.

A small, sad smile crossed Al's lips. "Just a bad habit I picked up from a guy I used to know."

Tim raised an eyebrow, hoping Al would continue the story. But she didn't, so Tim changed the subject. "I don't know how I'm going to get through the weekend. I really need to find my own place or something."

Al was quiet for a moment. Tim thought he could see her struggling with her thoughts. Then she took a deep breath and spoke.

"You know, I've been thinking about renting out a room. I'd much rather rent it to someone I know than have to go through the horror of placing an ad and having a bunch of weirdos show up and then worry that I'm living with an axe murderer or something. So, if you want it, it's yours. It's a decent room, double-bed, big bright windows and its own bathroom."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Say, $250 a month, split the utilities and groceries. I'll cook if you clean up."

"It's a deal." Tim held out his hand and when she shook it, he remembered her strong grip and didn't worry about hurting her, returning the firm handshake.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim didn't know what he was looking forward to more, drinking beers with his brother after the garage closed or having a night of uninterrupted sleep at his new place. Al went out at lunch to buy the beer and get a set of keys made for Tim. At quarter past four, after Billy finally sweet-talked the last customer into wrapping up the small talk and leaving. Al grabbed three beers and a glass, then walked out the back door with the brothers and Bruno following her.

Two battered lawn chairs were set up to look out over the abandoned field behind which the sun was setting. Tim had a moment of awkwardness as he realized that there were only two chairs. He felt like he was intruding on what had become Al and Billy's little Friday tradition. Al solved the problem by sitting on the ground near the chairs and whistling Bruno over to sit next to her.

She looked comical, a tiny woman sitting next to a giant dog. Bruno towered over her in their seated positions. Billy grabbed two beers from Al and muttered "Thanks, Short Stuff". He dodged her playful slap and settled into the second chair, leaving Tim the chair closest to her.

Tim popped the cap off his beer and tossed it, then noticed his brother's wide-eyed look of warning. Billy pocketed the cap from his own beer while gesturing silently at Al.

"Yeah, Tim, I've tried to bring some civilization to these parts. It won't kill you to dispose of your bottle cap in the trash like a normal person." Al's husky voice was wry and she was smiling.

Tim smiled at Billy and mouthed the word "busted." He looked over at Al, who was pouring her beer into a glass. When she'd emptied half the bottle, she handed the rest over to Tim.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Billy plucked the bottle out of his brother's hands and drained it in a single gulp. Wiping his arm across his mouth, he explained. "She can't drink a whole beer and still feel comfortable driving home because she's like a midget or something, Dumb Ass."

"Billy, no need to call names," chided Al.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to call you a midget." Billy didn't sound all that sorry.

Al picked up a small stone and tossed it at Billy, nailing him solidly in the hand and causing him to yelp in surprise.

"I meant calling your brother names."

Tim lifted the bottle to his lips and smiled behind it. Having Al around was different, but it was maybe even turning out to be better than when it was just him and Billy.

"So, little brother, you've been here for days and still haven't told us what the hell happened."

Tim sighed and got up.

"Hold up, there, don't walk away. You don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"It's just going to take at least another beer or two." He covered the distance between the chairs and garage in a few easy strides, grabbed four beers, and returned to Al and Billy.

He popped the cap off a bottle, looking pointedly at Al as he slipped the cap in his pocket. Then he sighed and brushed his hair up out of his face.

"I went to Vanderbilt to surprise Lyla on her birthday only I found her kissing this guy, Rafe."

"Rafe? What the hell kind of name is Rafe?" asked Billy.

"Exactly," said Tim.

"Spanish, probably short for Raphael," said Al with a shrug.

"You know that was a rhetorical question, right? And how the hell do you know this shit anyway?" said Billy.

Al gave them her impish grin. She'd taken out her ponytail after they finished for the day and her blonde curly hair blew in the wind. The curls looked like they had minds of their own, each moving in its own crazy pattern. Tim thought she looked like a mad scientist. A very small, very cute mad scientist.

"But how'd you manage to miss the game? I know you're not that stupid," said Billy.

"I tried to get on an earlier flight, but they were all full. Then these storms came, cancelled all the flights and I couldn't get out of Nashville until Sunday."

"Why didn't you rent a car and drive back?" asked Al.

"Because I was maybe kinda a little bit too drunk by that point."

"Oh." Al looked at Tim apologetically, although Tim wasn't sure what she was sorry for. It was his own stupid fault. Tim didn't want her feeling sorry for him, so he decided to change the subject.

"So, you know what kind of name Rafe is, maybe you can tell me what sort of name Al is for a girl." Tim grinned at her and thought he saw a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I told you, it's just a nickname."

"So what's your real name then?"

Al shook her head.

"Come on, tell me. I promise not to laugh."

"But you would laugh. It's none of your business."

Billy chuckled, watching his brother trying to cajole Al's name out of her. He knew Tim was used to having girls give him whatever he wanted, but he'd never met a girl like Al before.

Tim turned and looked at his brother. "You must know what it is, since you're her boss. Tell me."

"No way." Billy shook his head and crossed his arms. "I like my balls way too much."

Al smiled sweetly at Tim as she got up. "I'm going to leave you two for some brotherly beer-drinking, I'm sure you've been looking forward to it all week. And Billy, you're wise to value your balls. Don't you dare tell him."

Tim thought he heard a note of pleading in her voice, which only made him all the more curious about her name. It must be something truly horrible. Like Gertrude or something.

"New Roommate, I'll see you later," said Al over her shoulder as she walked away, Bruno trotting behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim stood on the front steps of what he thought was Al's house. He matched the house numbers up against the scrap of paper she'd written the address on. He had a duffle bag of clothes in one hand and the house keys in the other, but he still felt a little strange about just letting himself in. But then, since she'd given him keys, it felt equally strange to knock or ring the door bell.

He shrugged off the weirdness and took a deep breath. This was going to be his home now too, might as well act like it is. He unlocked the door and walked into the dimly lit living room. It was like stepping into a library – all of the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Tim doubted he had ever seen so many books in anybody's house before. A black leather couch, chair, and a coffee table took up the middle of the room

Calling out to announce his presence, he walked around the furniture and through the door into the dining room/kitchen area. It was open and airy. Downright breezy and chilly, in fact. Tim spotted the open sliding door and walked out onto the wooden deck, where he found Al sitting on a low-slung lawn chair. She was under a blanket and had a glass and a bottle on a small table next to her. Bruno stood to greet Tim, his Helicopter Tail in full effect.

"Hey Al." Tim wasn't sure why he was nearly whispering. There was something very somber about the mood on the deck. Al seemed different than at work, somehow deflated and less than herself. Tim thought he might have seen evidence of crying on her face, but the light was too dim and she wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Tim, I'm sorry. I'm being rude. I should give you the tour and help you bring your stuff in." She spoke in that slow, deliberate manner common in those who are on the verge of drunkenness. She stood up and walked into the house. Tim couldn't help but notice that she was wearing shorts and a tank-top. It was the first time that he'd seen her in anything other than baggy combat pants and her uniform shirt, so he was able to fully appreciate her body. She was small but curvy, proportionately well-built. No one would mistake her for a boy, that's for sure.

He shook his head. He knew it was a stupid idea to start thinking of his roommate That Way. Especially since they worked together. It was beyond stupid and well into idiotic territory. He tried to focus on the tour. Living room. Kitchen. Dining Room. Laundry Room. Bathroom. Two bedrooms downstairs – one had exercise equipment, the other was a combination office and art studio. Two bedrooms upstairs – the one with the open door was his. She gestured toward the closed door and he understood her room would not be part of the tour.

She tried to follow him out to the truck to help him with his stuff, but he insisted he'd do it himself. She wasn't wearing shoes, or a jacket, and she was definitely more on the way to tipsy than he'd realized at first.

"Just because I'm small and female doesn't mean I can't carry stuff."

"I know. But you're not really dressed for being a mover and I haven't got much stuff anyway."

"I can put on some shoes and a jacket if that's the problem."

"Hey, why don't you go back out on the deck, pour us some drinks and I'll be with you in about two minutes."

She looked at him with pursed lips, then slowly smiled. He was relieved that she'd decided not to argue the point with him. She agreed to his plan and went out on the deck.

When he joined her a few minutes later, she was back under the blanket, staring into space. He picked up his glass and held it up to her for a toast.

"No regrets."

"Too late for that." She had a half-smile on her lips but her eyes told a different story. She clinked his glass and took a sip of the amber liquid. He tried to down his like a shot and nearly choked to death. The alcohol was strong, peppery, and burnt his mouth and throat. He spluttered and felt his face going red, like some damn 12-year old who'd just busted into his parents' liquor cabinet.

"Easy there. It's not something to bolt. It's something to savor."

"What the hell is it?" His voice was strangled and he wondered if his mouth would ever recover.

"Scotch. The name is Talisker." She handed him the bottle and he regarded the label suspiciously. He also noted that about a quarter of it was gone and wondered when she'd opened it. For a girl who was afraid to drive with more than half a bottle of beer on board, she seemed nonchalant about sipping the spicy Scotch.

"So, uh, Al, where's the television?"

She laughed. "Don't have one. That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, I just, well, you know. Everyone has a tv."

"Not me. You wan to get one for your room,I'm not gonna stop you. But I'm not going to hang out and watch it with you either."

He nodded and tried to sip the Scotch. Now that he knew what to expect, he was able to enjoy the weird taste, even though he couldn't even begin to describe it. They lapsed into an easy silence, each sipping Scotch and staring up into the starry night sky. Bruno had his head in Al's lap and she was rubbing his ears in a way that caused him to make contented grumbling sounds.

"So, is this what you do every night?" Tim finally asked.

She shook her head and poured them each another drink. "Only on Fridays."

Tim knew now that whatever story lay behind her sad words, he wasn't going to hear it tonight. He could only hope that if he waited long enough, she might one day trust him enough to open up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thanks for the kind reviews. I'm glad to know that people are reading and enjoying this.**

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Living with Al was all about silence, rules, and routines. Tim wasn't much for talking, but he'd never met another person who could be as quiet as Al. She was different at work, very outgoing with the customers and always teasing him and Billy about something. But when it came to talking about herself or her feelings, she was a master at dodging the questions.

Tim didn't mind the silence. It's not like they never talked, they just never talked about Al. He found himself in a strange role reversal, where he was the one pouring words into the space between them, trying to get her to open up.

It never worked on Tim when girls did it to him and it didn't work on Al either. He had to confess that on more than one occasion, he had kissed a babbling girl just to shut her up. He also had to confess that part of him was disappointed that Al hadn't tried that tactic on him.

Al was a complete mystery, a strange mix of laid-back and rigid. She was easy-going and fun to be around, but then she swore by routine and was firmly insistent about following a few rules. Well, really, it was just one rule that could be twisted around to apply to many situations.

"I am not your maid or your mother, Tim," she said on the first Saturday, pointing to the socks he'd left on the floor next to the couch.

She said the same thing about laundry. She'd throw his clothes in with hers, as a courtesy, but would not fold them.

She expected him to clean up after himself, but didn't care about his room or bathroom, since she never had to see them.

She was deadly serious about the division of labour on cooking and cleaning. And she wanted the cleaning done as soon as possible after dinner. The first time he left the dishes and pans in the sink, she refused to cook dinner for him the next day, even after he'd washed everything.

It took a little getting used to, but Al's attitude made it easier. She was clear and consistent about what she wanted. Tim liked knowing what her expectations were, liked knowing that anyone even had positive expectations for him. He didn't want to disappoint her.

The routine part of living with Al was also easy to fall into, although most mornings, he went into the garage later than she did. She seemed to wake up at ungodly hours and was a morning person on top of that. Not one of those annoying in-your-face types, but she was still a lot more with it in the morning than he ever was going to be.

The only part of her routine that he didn't like were Friday nights. He'd come home from watching the night's football game and find her drinking on the back deck. He knew a bit about drinking to forget and drinking to not feel. It never worked as well as you hoped it would. The feelings and thoughts always caught up with you eventually.

The first Friday night, he'd left her around midnight and gone to bed. He woke up at seven the next morning with a pounding head that demanded attention. Stumbling downstairs to get some juice and see if he could find the supply of pain relievers, he found the sliding glass door was still wide open. Al had fallen asleep, or passed out, on the lawn chair with Bruno sleeping beside her.

He'd left her on the deck, unsure of whether leaving her was the best course of action. The next Friday night, the same thing happened: he went to bed and she passed out on the deck. The nights were getting colder and even though she had a blanket, he worried that she'd get sick or even freeze to death. He tried to talk to her about it, but she just changed the subject.

The look in her eyes reminded him of the time on the boat in Mexico, when Six said he was okay if he died during the operation. Not suicidal, exactly, but resigned to whatever happened. Like dying would be about the same as living in his current condition. That look had scared Tim then and it scared him now.

The third Friday, Tim limited his Scotch consumption and watched Al carefully. He tried to encourage her to join him back in the house. When that failed, he just waited her out. After her eyes closed and her breathing fell into a normal rhythm, he carried her into the house and gently placed her on the couch. Then he went up to his own room.

In the morning, she didn't say anything to him, but there was something different about her. A little lighter, a little less down than she usually was on a Saturday. Tim didn't say anything about it either, but his carrying her into the living room became part of the Friday night routine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

The weeks slipped by and soon it was late October, time for Amber's first birthday party. Mindy had planned a huge bash and Billy took the Friday before off to help her get everything ready. Al sent Tim out to the Alamo Freeze to pick up their lunch. He'd never met a girl who could eat as much as Al did. As little as she was, he just didn't know where she put it all.

He placed the order and was about to sit down and wait for the carry-out when he spotted Tyra sitting in the window, having lunch. He sat down across from her and stole a few of her fries. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You here for the party?" he asked her.

"You think my sister would let me miss my niece's first birthday? The Baby Jesus didn't get such a fuss made over him on his first birthday."

Tim grinned at her. "Don't hold back, Tyra, tell me how you really feel."

"Ha. Ha. So you're back in Dillon for good, then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Billy said when they got caught up at the garage then we'd figure out my future, but I'm happy here."

"How's living and working with my cousin?"

"Great, although I still can't figure out how you two are related."

"Our fathers are brothers."

"Yeah, I get that part. I'm not retarded. It's just that you're so different."

"Oh, you mean that I'm twice as tall as her?"

"Yeah. Three times as mean, too." He smiled to let her know that he was joking. Well, mostly joking.

Tyra's eyes took in his face in a way that reminded him of one off those scanning machines in a science fiction movie. She'd always been able to do this to him. To look at him and know what he'd done, what he was thinking, what he was going to do.

"Tim, don't even think about it." Tyra's voice was sharp and she was starting to point her finger at him. Dear god, nothing good ever happened when Tyra started pointing at him.

"What? I thought the line I couldn't cross was screwing your sister. Does this line extend to cover all your blood relatives now?"

"Are you seriously thinking of screwing Al?"

"Well," he felt weird discussing this with her. "I wouldn't put it quite like that but I do think she's a very cool gal and I wouldn't mind getting to know her better."

"No, Tim. Don't. Just don't."

Tim didn't understand why she was spoiling for a fight. They'd always been this way together. Like when you put metal in the microwave – the sparks were fun for a little while, but left alone for too long, it could burn the house down.

"Tyra, what's the problem?"

"Well, she's a lot older than you."

"Like what, she's 25? 26? That's only 6 or 7 years. As long as she's not 6 or 7 years younger than me right now, there's no problem. That's a weak ass argument and you know it."

"Tim, I can't make a stronger argument."

"So then back off and mind your own business."He folded his arms and leaned back.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that there isn't a stronger argument to make, it's just that....you know, you're right, it's not really my business."

The cashier brought Tim's order to him in three big white paper bags. Tim thanked him, then stood up and began to collect the bags.

Tyra put a hand on his arm. "Wait....two things. First, if you hurt her, Mindy will kick your ass into the middle of next week. Seriously. You think I can be a bitch – I learned from the best."

Tim grinned. He'd gotten hints of Mindy's temper when he'd stayed with her and Billy. The Collette blood ran hot, there was no doubt about that.

"Second, you just need to know that Al's a great girl-"

"I know that," said Tim softly.

"I didn't finish. Al's a great girl, but she's got more baggage than Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. For real. She doesn't need any more trouble."

Tim sighed. "Who said I was going to be trouble?"

"Your track record ain't great, you've got to admit that."

"Yeah, maybe it wasn't great. But I've changed. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?"

"My gramma used to say that men never change, they just get better at what they do. And I know what you did when you were with me..." Tyra looked down and then met Tim's steady gaze.

"Tyra, I can't keep apologizing for things that happened when we were both young and stupid. You've changed so much and I really respect what you've done with your life. I just wish you could see that you're not the only one who changed."

Tyra looked up at him. Tim wasn't as good at reading her face as he once was, but she seemed to have listened to him and taken his words to heart. "Yeah. Look, I'll see you tomorrow at Amber's party."

"Of course." Tim gave her a nod and walked out to his truck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim returned from the Alamo Freeze to find Al wiping her greasy hands on a rag while rushing to answer the phone. Her hair was starting to slip out of the ponytail and the humid weather made it even more curly than usual.

"Riggins Rigs, Al speaking. How may I help you?"

Tim smiled at Al's phone voice. It was flirty and smiley, yet also competent and courteous. Billy preferred she answer the phone whenever possible, which was fine by Tim.

"Oh, Buddy. Right, how's it going?" Al looked at Tim. He raised the bags and pointed to the break room. She nodded, so he headed that way.

"You need to cancel Lyla's appointment for the week of Thankgiving?"

His steps slowed when he heard Lyla's name. He hadn't realized she'd had an appointment to come into the garage. He had deleted her voicemail message without listening to it. About a week after The Incident, as he'd come to think of it, she'd sent him a single email, which he'd deleted without opening. That was the sum total of her communication attempts in the last two months.

"Well, Buddy, you know they do have mechanics in Nashville....No, I'm sure they won't rip you off."

Tim shook his head and hurried into the break room. He didn't know how long Buddy would yammer at Al, but he didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. He grabbed a couple of plates and put them on the table. (Al liked to "eat like civilized people, not savages," which meant no eating out of cardboard boxes or paper wrappings.) He plated their lunches and was pouring glasses of water when Al arrived.

"Jesus, Buddy could talk for Texas, now couldn't he?" She washed her hands and sat down at the table, smiling. He gave her a thin-lipped, half-hearted smile in return.

"Thanks for getting lunch. Mrs. Wilson stopped in and her car needs a right-quick oil change before four today, think you can squeeze that in?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I only have to finish replacing the carburetor in Diego's truck, which should only take maybe another hour."

"You're a pal." She grinned at him then took a bite of her burger.

"So, what was Buddy saying about Lyla?" Tim tried for casual but thought he'd missed the mark by several hundred miles.

Al sighed and took a sip of water. "Timmy, don't make yourself miserable over her."

"I'm not. I was just wondering what was going on with the business." The words sounded even lamer out loud than they had in his head.

"I'll tell you what's going on with the business – it's going great and I've got ideas to make it even greater."

"Is that so?" Her enthusiasm was hard to ignore. So was the speed at which she ate. Her burger was nearly gone and she was well into her fries while he'd barely made a start on his lunch.

"Yeah. Now, what's a problem that we have?"

"I don't know. What's a problem that we have?" He grinned at her.

"Well, our customers have to leave their cars with us and sometimes it takes a few days before we can fix them, right?"

He nodded.

"So they're without a car. And if they live too far away from here, then it isn't feasible for them to be without a car, so we lose their business to a more conveniently located, and probably far inferior, mechanic. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess." He had no idea where she was going with this.

"What if we were able to offer our customers loaner cars, free of charge."

He thought about that for a second. "Sounds like a good idea, but would we have to buy cars or something? That sounds expensive."

"Ah, see, that's linear, negative thinking. I got a fantastic out-of-the-box idea." Her eyes were sparkling and her smile was impish. This was Al at her best – excited and ready to take on the world. Tim decided to enjoy it, and not think about how he was going to sit on the back deck with her later that evening and watch her try to drown her sorrows in a bottle of Scotch..

"OK, then, so wow me with your idea." He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head.

"We go to Buddy with a business proposition. We'll fix up his used cars for only the cost of parts, in exchange for us getting to loan those cars out for a period of two to three weeks per car."

"Buddy Garrity?" Tim frowned.

"Is there another?"

"Not around here, no... I hate to tell you this, but the holes in your brilliant idea are big enough for Bruno to run through."

"Such as?" She wasn't annoyed, but Tim could see her digging in for a fight. She clearly believed in this crazy plan.

"Such as Buddy Garrity's got his own mechanics. Why's he need to send any cars to us?"

"Two things on that. First, Buddy's mechanics are working on cars that Buddy's sold, usually new cars, sometimes under warranty, sometimes not. Point is, they're busy and he doesn't wanna be spending labor money on cars that ain't even sold yet."

Tim considered this for a second. It made a certain amount of sense. "You said two things. What's the second?"

"Buddy is quite insistent that we work on Lyla's car. He doesn't want her going to a mechanic in Nashville. He doesn't want his own guys working on it. He wants us to do it. What's that tell you?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. Buddy hates me so I can't understand why he'd want us to work on Lyla's car."

"Because, in the last few months, Riggins Rigs has obtained a stellar reputation for quality, reliable repairs at reasonable prices. Have you seen our ratings on RateMyMechanic-dot-com?"

Tim had a hazy recollection of Billy proudly showing him all their five star ratings. "Yeah, but I seem to remember that more than half of them said how you were the hottest female mechanic in West Texas."

Al flushed and looked down. "Yeah, well, that's sorta like being the smartest kid on the short bus or the prettiest Denny's waitress."

Tim threw some fries at her. "Don't put yourself down."

"I'm being self-deprecating. There is a difference." She threw the fries back at him.

"And you really think Buddy will do business with us?"

"I know he will. Because there's something in it for him, too. These loaners, they're like free advertising and extended test drives for people whose cars are maybe unreliable, people who are possibly in the market for a new or used car. I can see some of them even falling in love with the loaners, especially if we really have 'em purring."

Tim nodded slowly. "You're an evil genius, you know that right?"

She swatted at him playfully. "No, I'm just a regular genius."

"Al, seriously, the more I think about this, the more brilliant it seems. Did you go to college for business?"

She shook her head. "Biochemistry and genetics, actually."

"For real?"

"Yep. Gotta BA in Biochemistry with a minor in organic chem and a Masters in Genetics."

"Uh, what are you doing fixing cars?"

She shrugged, stood up, and started clearing the table. "Grew up with seven older brothers and did everything they did. Even played high school football."

"You did not."

"I did. I was just the kicker and really only because it was a small school and we could barely field a team, but I could nail a field goal from 40 yards. Once, I even tackled a punt returner."

Tim gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Not too shabby."

Al turned to take the dishes to the sink, but Tim grabbed her arm. "Al, you really think this idea will work?"

"I know it will. We've been getting calls from as far away as Midland. It's just if we can't do fast turnaround, we lose the customers who are farther out."

He let her arm go and looked up at her. "Good. Because Billy said we'd have to talk about my future when things slowed down and y'all didn't need me anymore. I'm not ready to think about that."

Al brushed Tim's hair back from his face. "Tim, you know we're going to need you here, always. It's just that Billy, well, it was hard for him to see you walk away from what he thought was best for you. But he's coming around and he loves having you here. We both do."

Before Tim could say anything, the ringing phone interrupted them. He watched Al drop the dishes in the sink and rush into the office. He smiled to himself, until he realized that she'd completely avoided his question. If he had two science degrees, he doubted he'd be fixing cars in the middle of nowhere in Texas.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Early the next afternoon, Tim and Al got ready to head out to the Party of the Century. They had a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who would have the dubious honor of being the designated driver. Tim correctly guessed that Al was a Rock sort of girl and easily smothered her with Paper. She sighed and picked up her keys.

At the door, she paused to scratch Bruno's ears.

"Sorry, Bruno, buddy, you're going to have to sit this one out here."

"Can't we bring him?"

Al shook her head. "All those people, all that food sitting out – it's too much temptation. Last time I took him to a party, he ate two pizzas, half a chocolate birthday cake, and dozens of shrimp. Cost me almost $300 to take him to the emergency vet and get this stomach pumped."

Bruno looked so sad, Tim hated to leave him behind. "Can't we at least bring him and he can wait in the bed of the truck? Or even the cab, if you're worried about him running away."

"No, Tim, that's not a good idea." Her voice was sharp and he put his hands up instinctively in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, it's okay. It was just a suggestion."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I guess I'm just hungover."

"No worries, I been there." They walked out of the house and he waited while she locked the door.

They got in her truck and she handed him one of two brightly wrapped gifts, then revved up the truck and pulled out of the driveway.

"Yeah, thanks for picking something out for me. What is it again?"

"It's a Fisher Price Circus Train that moves and makes all kinds of animal sounds."

"Cool. And what's yours?"

"A cute dress."

"Bo-ring."

"No kidding. My gift can't upstage Uncle Timmy's. That would be a major breach of etiquette."

Tim laughed. "You have seven older brothers, you must have some experience at the nieces and nephews thing."

"Indeed I do. Five nieces, seven nephews."

"Wow. They all in Texas?"

"Not a single one. I'm from Minnesota, you know?"

"You're not!"

"I am."

"For real? Then how come you don't talk like the lady in that movie where the guy ends up in the woodchipper?"

"Fargo? You know I would slap you if I didn't need both hands on the steering wheel."

He smirked. "Don't tease."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "It drives me crazy when everyone assumes I should sound like Marge Gunderson."

They arrived on Billy and Mindy's street, which was jammed with cars belonging to party guests. She drove a few blocks down, looking for a spot.

"How is it, Al, that I've know you for a coupla months now and this is the first I've heard of where you're from?"

She shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "Don't like talkin' about myself, I guess."

"That's like saying Texas is kinda big."

"You're hardly Mr. Chatterbox yourself you know." Al pulled up to the curb and parked the truck.

"You can ask me anything, you know, I'll answer any question. For you." His voice was low and serious as he stared at her across the seat. The truck suddenly felt very small.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "C'mon. We're already late."

As they walked up toward Billy and Mindy's, Tim had to smile to himself. This Riggins' party was 180 degrees different than all the parties they'd had in the recent past. It was the middle of the afternoon. You couldn't hear the party from three blocks away like you would have in the past. And Tim was pretty sure that even Billy wouldn't have any kegs at his daughter's birthday party.

Billy greeted them at the door with a bottle of beer and TJ. He slapped Tim on the back, kissed Al on the cheek and gestured for them to put the gifts down on the table near the door. Then he handed the beer to Al and the baby to Tim before walking away.

Tim looked uncomfortable as he jostled his nephew around, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the child while still trying to support his head and watch his neck and do all the other millions of things you need to do with an infant. Al giggled.

"Tell you what, let me have half of this and then we'll switch," she said.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. "Deal. Drink faster. Pretend you're at a frat party or something."

About fifteen minutes later, Al was ready for the trade and Tim was well past ready. They switched and Al expertly held the baby up to her shoulder, supporting his neck and head with one hand while the other arm held him snugly to her. Tim was impressed by her baby handling skills, but then she'd been an aunt way longer than he'd been an uncle. She gave him a wink and set off to find Mindy.

Tim wandered through the party, pausing to catch up with familiar faces. He quickly finished Al's half beer and went to get another. It was weird to open the fridge and find it full of baby food and milk, fruits and vegetables. And absolutely no beer. He caught Billy's eye from across the room and held up his empty bottle. Billy pointed to the sliding glass door.

When Tim went out back, he found several coolers near the pool. He grabbed a couple of bottles and was headed back inside when he ran into Tyra..


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

"Hi, Uncle Timmy." She greeted him with a smile and a small wave, then grabbed a beer from the nearest cooler.

"Hi yourself, Aunt Tyra. You havin' fun?"

"A blast. Except that for the past hour, Landry's been talking about a stupid video game with the father of one of the kids in the baby play group. The only thing more boring than playing that game is talking about it."

Tim grinned. "Or listening to someone else talk about it, apparently."

Tyra returned his smile. Then her voice softened. "Hey, Tim, I'm sorry if I was bitchy yesterday."

"It's okay, it happens." He shrugged.

"I was just pissed because Mindy had just told me that she and Billy had found a babysitter for Thanksgiving weekend and could come up to Austin for our cousin's wedding. So now I have to go and I am so not looking forward to it."

"You never know, it could be fun."

"It won't be. Our cousin is a total dickhead."

"This isn't one of Al's brothers is it?"

Tyra shook her head. "Nah, it's my mom's sister's kid."

Tim nodded, like that explained it all. He took a long drink of beer and looked out over the empty pool.

"Tim, you have changed. You are so right about that."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just hard for me to accept, you know?" Tyra pressed her lips into a thin smile and looked down. "Because I know I had no part of it. That I wasn't good enough for you to change for or good enough to help you change or something."

"Don't look at it like that. I don't look at your changing without me like that."

"Then what do you look at it like?"

He shrugged. "What did you say to me once? It's all about timing. We met at a time when all we were good at was pressing each other's buttons and pissing each other off. Maybe if we'd met later, when we were both older and not so stupid, it woulda been different."

She nodded. "Maybe....Look, if you have feelings for Al, then you should go for it. Definitely. But don't be surprised if she knocks you back."

"But-"

"But what? You're Tim Riggins, who no straight woman can resist?" She cocked her head to the side and grinned at him.

He grinned back and shook his head. "No. It's just that I get the feeling like she's maybe sorta interested, but is holding back."

"That sounds about right."

"So whatta I do then?"

"Softly softly, catchy monkey."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, it's just something Landry says. He picked it up from watching BBC America or something. I think it means you have to be patient and not rush and in the end, you'll get what you want."

"Great. The next time I want to catch a monkey, I'll know what to do."

Tyra laughed. "I should really go find Landry and you should go find Al."


	14. Chapter 14

He followed Tyra into the house, where he found Al hanging out with Mindy and the birthday girl.

"Uncle Timmy! The clown is going to be here in five minutes," said Mindy.

"Awesome. Hey, Al, can I talk to you a minute?" Tim took her hand and, without waiting to hear her response, dragged her out of the house.

"What's up?" she asked when they stopped next to the pool.

"I hate clowns. Hate 'em. Clowns and hospitals are about the two worst things in the world."

"So, a hospital staffed entirely by clowns would be your worst nightmare?"

"Absolutely." He shuddered.

"I don't understand. What have you got against clowns?"

"They're freaky and just not quite right. What kind of grown man wants to dress like that?"

"OK, so what, we're just going to hang out here until the clown is gone?"

"Maybe not here exactly. But I know a place."

He dragged one of the coolers over to the corner of the house, stood on it, and scrambled up onto the roof of the back porch. He looked down and saw Al standing on the cooler, but she was way too short to be able to grab the roof and pull herself up. He couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Are you going to sit up there and laugh at me or are you going to help me?"

"I think I want to laugh just a little longer, Short Stuff."

"That's it, Tim. I'm going to get the clown." She stepped off the cooler.

He was back on the ground in a flash, assuring her he was only joking and was going to help her.

He dragged another cooler over and motioned for her to get back up on it. He turned her around so she was facing the roof and put his hands on her waist. He tried to ignore the funny, roller coaster feeling it gave him to be touching her like that. He shook his head and warned himself to focus. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He easily lifted her up high enough that she was able to pull herself up onto the roof. He waited for her to move over to give him some space and then he scrambled back up and sat next to her.

"You hang out up here a lot?"

"Well, not a lot. But whenever I wanted to be alone but didn't feel like going anywhere, this was perfect. You can't see up here, unless you go all the way to the very end of the pool."

Al bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them, then rested her chin on her arm while she watched him.

"Can I ask you something?" He was practically whispering and she had to lean a little closer to hear him.

"Yeah, but I reserve the right not to answer."

"OK." He took a deep breath and let it go slowly before continuing. He kept his gaze on the empty pool "I really like living with you. And I've been thinking...we make a good team and well, I think we should try, you know, maybe dating."

"Where's the question?" She giggled.

He looked at her and was met by the impish grin that was his favorite.

"I'm taking a chance here and you're busting my balls." Tim put his hand on her cheek. Her giggling came to an abrupt stop.

"I think you know I'm right. And I think you feel something for me too. I'm just saying we should give it a chance."

Al sighed and tried to look to look down, he wouldn't let her. He licked his lips and felt her lean ever so slightly toward him, which was all the invitation he needed.

Tim leaned in to kiss her, expecting her to resist, but she melted into him. Her mouth was hot and tasted like cinnamon. She put a hand in his hair and idly rubbed his scalp with her fingertips. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.

He moved his hand back behind her neck and eased her down onto the roof, his other hand moving lightly over her chest and down her stomach to the hem of her shirt, which he traced like it was an important line on a map.

Suddenly, she broke off the kiss and pushed him away, sidling over to put some distance between them. She sat up and looked at the ground.

"What?" His voice was low and rough.

"I can't do this."

"You can. We can. It'll be all right. Is it because we work together?"

"Well, it's probably not the best idea, but no, it's not specifically because of that."

"That we live together?"

"Again, probably not the best, but not the reason."

"It can't be the age difference."

She smiled that wry half-smile. "No. I've heard it wouldn't even be a record for you."

He grinned but refused to let her sidetrack him this time.

"So then what is it?"

She sighed and looked up at the sky. He could see that she was fighting back tears and could hear her voice crack as she answered him. "It's not you, it's me."

"Oh please, that's the biggest line of BS in the world."

"Can you not see that I'm a ghost? A mirage? I'm barely here."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "You look damn real and here to me."

"But I'm not. You deserve so much more than this, so much more than me."

"You're selling yourself short again. You know I hate when you do that."

"I can't do this. I just can't."

She moved to the edge of the roof, eased herself over the edge and jumped down. He held his breath, terrified that she'd hurt herself. But then he heard her footsteps on the pavement and listened to her walk away.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: This really is leading up to something, I promise. :) I'd hoped to get to Al's backstory today, but I've got some research to do. So here's a few chapters to hold you over and I hope to get the rest out soon.**

Tim had to get off the roof to get a beer. He didn't want to go into the house, not until he was sure the clown was gone. He considered taking a few beers up to the roof but saw the flaw in that plan immediately. In the end, he found a lawn chair and set it up next to the pool, where he and Billy had stored their copper wire haul.

He drank what he considered just enough. Just enough to take some of the edge off, to get him to the point where he could feel like he was watching life from a safe distance. But not enough to be stumbling around, slurring his words and doing stupid stuff. His drinking alone outside reminded him of Friday nights with Al, only he knew no one would carry him into the house if he passed out.

Although he knew Al would probably want to try. Tim grinned as he tried to imagine that. She was strong for her size, but he doubted she'd even be able to lift half of him. Tim sighed, ran a hand through his hair and then started to peel the label off his beer. The sound of the sliding glass door caused him to look up.

He watched Al step out into the backyard. She went around to the corner of the house and stood on one of the coolers, softly calling out his name. He knew he should say something, to let her know where he was, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He just watched, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she shook her head and jumped off the cooler.

He thought she'd go back into the house, but instead she turned and headed toward the end of the pool. As she passed him, he spoke.

"I'm right here."

The sound of his voice startled her and he couldn't help but grin as she jumped. She turned and looked at him, annoyance quickly giving way to amusement.

"The clown's gone. It's safe to come back in."

He shrugged. "Maybe I like it out here."

"Maybe you do, but people are going to notice if Uncle Timmy isn't around for birthday cake."

"Is that so?" He noticed that she wouldn't look him in the eye and was fidgeting. He didn't regret kissing her, but he was going to regret if things between them became irreparably weird.

She walked over and took his empty bottles off the cooler he'd been using as a side table. She sat down on the cooler, facing the pool. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"You're right, you know. Everything you said on the roof....100% true." Her husky voice was rough around the edges and Tim could feel the weight behind her words.

"So then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that everything I said was equally 100% true."

Tim moved his chair around so that he was facing her. He leaned forward and brushed her hair away from her face.

"Not quite," he whispered.

"Not quite what?"

"Not everything you said was true. I don't deserve more than you. And even if you have this idea that I do, you're what I want." He traced the line of her jaw, feeling the muscles tighten under his finger. He heard her voice catch in her throat.

"Tim, I didn't come out here to go over the same ground."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Then what did you come out here for?"

"To talk to you about what happened so we can go back to how things were before. So we can still work and live together and not have it be awkward or weird."

Tim smiled. "It's not going to be awkward or weird."

"It's not?" She sounded confused.

"It's not. You know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because you know I'm right, and I know I'm right. The only thing that's changed is that I said how I felt out loud. And I'm okay with that."

"You are?"

"Yep. The rest of it will work itself out eventually."

She shook her head. "Tim, I don't think you really understand-"

He put a finger on her lips to silence her. She looked at him, eyes wide, and he could see everything he needed to know. He could take Tyra's advice. Softly, softly. He wouldn't pressure her. He wouldn't make a big deal about what happened. He'd just wait for her to work through whatever it was that made her bound and determined to make herself miserable.

He stood up and held out a hand to Al. "C'mon, I heard this birthday cake is supposed to be pretty good."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim and Al spent the Sunday after Amber's birthday party the same way they'd spent their previous Sundays together. Tim slept until about eleven, then made a huge breakfast for them. He spent breakfast trying to sneak food to Bruno while she scolded him. Afterward, Al curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee and read the newspaper from cover to cover, while Tim sat in the chair and read just the comics and sports page. Then they took Bruno for a walk up to Smitty's, where they watched the Cowboys game and shared pitchers of beer.

On Monday, Tim got to the garage late. Billy and Bruno were there, but there was no sign of Al.

"Where's Al?" Tim couldn't help but feel a stab of panic.

"At Buddy's." Billy came out from underneath the truck he was fixing and walked back to the parts storeroom. Tim trailed behind him.

"So, you told her to go ahead with her brilliant idea?"

Billy rolled his eyes. "Like there'd be any stopping her."

"You really think Buddy's going to go for it?"

Billy reached up to grab the part he needed from a high shelf. He looked at Tim seriously, like he was pondering a very important question. Then he said "No." and started laughing.

Tim grinned. The idea of Buddy doing business with the Riggins brothers _was_ laughable.

They heard footsteps running into the garage and Al arrived out of breath and looking very much out of place in a dark blue business suit. Her skirt stopped just above her knees and Tim's eyes were automatically drawn to her legs.

"Hey, Buddy's coming over here to check the place out, then, if he likes what he sees, he's going to sign the contract. Billy, did you get a chance to read the contract? I left it on your desk."

Billy looked at her like she'd asked him if he'd gotten a chance to zip up to the moon to pick up some cheese.

"Get back in your office and read it. Tim, tuck your shirt in and go look busy."

"Yes, boss." Tim resisted the urge to slap her playfully. That's the only thing that had changed between them. He tried not to touch her because it was just too difficult for him to stop.

Al nodded to them both and then walked back to the front desk to wait for Buddy, who arrived a few minutes later.

"Al, I don't think I've ever seen a lady drive so fast. I was right behind you coming out of the lot and then...poof, you were gone." Buddy was his usual sweaty, cheerful self. Bruno stood up and had a lazy stretch before heading over to check out their guest.

Buddy took a step back and eyed the dog suspiciously.

"It's okay, Buddy, this is Bruno." She whistled the dog away from Buddy, who was clearly uncomfortable with dogs. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

She started with the computer, explaining how they booked appointments and the software they used to estimate times and schedule repairs.

"That's some high tech stuff there. Where'd you get it?"

Al smiled. "I came up with the idea and the parameters and then got one of my brothers to make it for us."

"That's good. I wish we had something like that. I'm always at the mercy of my mechanics telling me how long they think something's going to take."

"Well, I might be amenable to discussing licensing it to you someday. Not quite today though."

Tim was loitering near the front desk, watching the way the Buddy kept leaning forward, finding any excuse to touch her. Tim wasn't jealous, exactly, since he could also see Al trying to keep her distance while still being polite.

"Hey, since I'm here, think we can reschedule the maintenance on Lyla's car?"

"Sure, Buddy, but I'm telling you, they really do have mechanics in Nashville."

Buddy laughed. "Yeah, but I know y'all will take good car of my baby's car. I don't know anybody in Nashville and I don't trust 'em."

"All right, then. When do you want to bring the car?"

"She'll be coming home for Christmas break, so, say the Monday before Christmas?"

Al clicked the mouse a few times and typed for a bit. The she got some contact details from Buddy and entered them into the computer as well.

"Fine, you're all set. Bring the car in that morning. Might even be able to get it done while she waits, but we'll let you know on the day."

"I just hope she comes home." Buddy let out a huge, wistful sigh and looked down. "She was supposed to come home for Thanksgiving, you know, but that boyfriend of hers invited her to Spain for a week."

"Wow, Buddy, that must be tough for you," said Al, but her eyes were on Tim.

Buddy looked up. "Tim Riggins, I heard you were back in Dillon. Sorry to hear that San Antonio State thing didn't work out for you, but not everyone's cut out for college."

"Buddy, we are so just fortunate that Tim was able to come back and help us out here. Our business has been growing like crazy and you know yourself how hard it is to find good mechanics." Al smiled sweetly.

Buddy backpedaled, but he clearly wasn't done twisting the knife as he went on to talk about how things always do work out for the best and to tie that back to Lyla, Vanderbilt, and Rafe.

"Buddy, how about I give you the rest of the tour?" Al asked when she saw a break in Buddy's monologue.

"Oh, sure, of course."

Al turned and motioned for Buddy to follow. Then she stopped and turned to Tim. "Timmy, I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot my regular work clothes. I left them in the kitchen, I think. Can you get them for me, please?"

Tim grinned at her. "Sure thing, baby."

"Thanks, sweets, you're the best." Al closed the space between them in three long steps, put her hands on his chest, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She whispered in his ear, her warm breath giving him chills. "I didn't forget. But just get out of here, take Bruno for a drive. You don't need to put up with this asshole."

She stepped back and turned to Buddy, who was looking between them with a puzzlement that slowly slid into understanding. Al walked on, explaining how things worked in the garage.

Tim stayed away for an hour, figuring that was more than enough time for Buddy to get his grand tour, sign the damn contract and get the hell out of there. He was impressed by how Al handled the situation. In one way, he knew it didn't change anything between them, that she was putting on a little show for Buddy's benefit. But in another way, it just confirmed everything he already knew: his patience would pay off in the end.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

The next few weeks flew by. Buddy signed the contract and Al arranged for radio ads to play on several West Texas stations, advertising the new loaner car benefit. Tim laughed every time he heard Billy's voice coming out of his truck's speakers. The idea was as good as Al had promised and they were soon swamped with work. They were working extra long days, with Tim and Al even coming in on weekends to catch up.

Tim didn't mind though. It felt good be part of something so successful. It also felt good to have the distraction of work. To be around Al and be able to focus on something other than how much he liked her. And how much he worried about her sometimes.

The Friday before Thanksgiving, they managed to finish at six for the night. Al went home and Tim and Billy went to the Panthers' play-off game, a home semi-final against Westerby. Tim didn't know if it was a law or just coincidence, but it always seemed to pour during semi-final games.

It looked like the rain would hold off this time, but the heavens opened up during the fourth quarter. The score was tied and Westerby had the ball, threatening on the Panthers' 25 yard line. Then the cold wind kicked in and chilled him to the bone. His focus on the game slipped as he thought of Al, no doubt drinking on the back deck at home.

"Billy, I gotta go," he shouted in his brother's ear to be heard over the noisy crowd and howling wind.

Billy grabbed his arm. "You can't go. The game's just getting' good."

"I have to." His eyes were serious.

"OK, then. Go. Be careful though."

Tim nodded and took off, pushing through their row and then hustling down the steps. He ran out to his truck and had it started and moving before he even had his seat belt on. He took a deep breath to steady himself, put on his seat belt and set off through the deserted streets.

When he got to their house, he burst through the front door, calling for Al. He could hear Bruno barking and saw the sliding glass door was open. He found Al outside, the barking dog pacing circles around her.

"Al, c'mon. Get in the house."

She either didn't hear him or ignored him.

He raised his voice. "Al, don't be an idiot. Even the damn dog knows you should be inside in this weather."

A flash of lightening lit up the yard and Tim could see her face, pale and grimly determined. He sighed, wondering if having to deal with her self-destructive tendencies was some sort of penance or karmic payback for what he'd put Billy through the year of Six's accident.

He pulled off the wet blanket, relieved to see she was at least wearing her work clothes and a jacket instead of her usual shorts and t-shirt. He scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the house. She didn't fight him or even say anything, which somehow scared him even more.

He put her down gently in a kitchen chair and pulled off her shoes and jacket. He took off his own jacket and sighed.

"Al, buddy, I need you to co-operate with me."

She didn't say anything and wouldn't look at him.

"Please." Everything he'd ever felt about her was wrapped up in that single word.

Her head snapped up and she met his eyes. She looked sad and pathetic, her curls plastered to her face.

"I need you to come upstairs with me. We need to get you changed, okay?"

She nodded and he took her hand. Its coldness shocked him. He put an arm around her and could feel that dry clothes weren't going to be enough to warm her.

They went upstairs and he led her to her room. It was the first time he'd ever seen the inside of it but he was sure his bathroom would not be up to her exacting standards.

Her room was smaller than his, with the weird angles of the roof making the space feel even more cramped. A twin bed, long dresser and a rocking chair were the only furniture.

Her bathroom, though, was much bigger and nicer than his. He could tell that it was a recent addition, that probably she was the one who had had it put in. A large jacuzzi tub took up one end of the room, with a floor built up next to it. The wide stairs up to the floor area reminded Tim of the steps into the shallow end of a pool.

A marble shower with glass doors took up the other end of the room. The toilet was next to a sink that looked like a giant marble bowl. The only mirror in the place was over the sink, a small oval placed high on the wall.

Tim didn't know where the door next to the shower went, so he opened it to reveal a heated linen closet. Its shelves were stacked with fluffy towels and bed sheets. Tim grabbed a few towels and dropped them on the counter next to the sink.

"Al, buddy, I need you to come in here."

He ran the water in the tub and dumped in some of the bubble bath that was sitting next to the tub. He adjusted the water carefully, not wanting it to be too hot. When the bubbles were close to the top of the tub, he shut off the water.

Al came in, Bruno trailing behind her. The dog was pacing and nervous, so Tim told him to lie down.

"I'm going to leave you now, but you need to get out of those clothes and have a bath."

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't leave." She looked up at him with puffy, red eyes and his heart broke like a pane of glass.

"All right, look, I'll find some clothes for you to wear after your bath. You let me know when it's safe to come in."

"Safe?"

"Work with me, here. I'm just a guy, you know."

She gave him a small smile and nodded. He left, half-closing the door behind him.

He went over to the dresser and guessed that he should skip the first drawer. As organized as Al was, Tim would bet his next paycheck that her first drawer was the underwear drawer and he just didn't think he could deal with that right now. He guessed that she'd organize her dresser in some sort of logical order and it seemed right that pajamas would be in the bottom drawer. He didn't know why, he just knew.

He pulled open the bottom drawer and smiled to see the tank tops and shorts, flannel pants and sweatshirts that she used as pajamas. He picked a pair of flannel pants that felt super soft, a blue tank top, and a well-worn black sweatshirt for the Eveleth Golden Bears football team.

"It's safe," called Al.

Tim carried the clothes in with him and dropped them next to the towels. He walked up the stairs and sat down on the top step, turning to lean his back against the wall. He stretched out one leg and kept the other bent so he could rest his arm against it. Al looked tiny in the huge tub, just her head sticking out from a sea of bubbles. He sighed.

"Some day, you're going to tell me what this is all about."

She nodded sadly. "Some day. But not today."

"No, not today," he agreed.

The quiet minutes stretched between them. Tim looked down at his ring, twisting it around on his finger while he twisted thoughts about Al around in his head. He understood wanting to passively destroy yourself. He knew where these bad decisions came from. He got her, he really did. He just didn't know how to explain that to her.

So, once again, it all came back to waiting. Which he knew he could do. As long as it took.

"Timmy?" Her voice was so quiet, he nearly missed it.

"Yeah." He looked up.

She gave him a half-smile. "Thank you."

"No worries." He smiled back. "No worries at all."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

The Monday before Thanksgiving, Billy was in his office with Tim, going over the parts they needed to order for the week. Al stuck her head in the door.

"Billy, call for you, line 2."

"Thanks, Al. You nearly done with that clutch?"

"Almost. And you know what will help me?"

"What?"

"If you stop asking me about the damn thing." She stuck her tongue out at Billy, winked at Tim, and then walked out.

"That girl. I can't decide if she's the best or worst thing ever to happen to this place." Billy shook his head.

"The best." Tim smiled. "Definitely the best."

Billy picked up the phone and jabbed the button for line 2.

"Billy Riggins." He tried to use his best phone voice, but he wasn't anywhere near as good at it as Al was.

"Oh shit. Excuse my language, but Celia, are you kidding me?"

Tim raised an eyebrow, but Billy waved him off.

"No....yeah....I understand, but we're leaving Wednesday. No, of course. Yeah. Well, thanks for telling me."

Billy dropped the phone down into the cradle and rubbed his hand over his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Tim.

"What's wrong is that was our babysitter. Her kid just got the chicken pox, so she can't watch Amber and TJ. Which means I gotta either find somebody else or call my wife and tell her 'Sorry, honey, know how you were lookin' forward to your first uninterrupted night's sleep in over a year, well it ain't going to happen.'"

"Shit, Billy. That sucks."

Billy leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Tim figured he was flipping through his mental list of people he knew that he'd trust with his kids. It was apparently a very short list. Billy's eyes snapped open and zeroed in on his brother.

"What?" Tim asked.

"Uncle Timmy," said Billy.

"Oh no, Billy. No way. That is a truly horrible idea."

"Tim, it'll be fine. Just find some girl to help you out. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that. Dillon's gotta be full of girls who would love to help you babysit in an empty house for four days."

"No Billy."

"Please, Tim. I am desperate. I am so desperate. I can't even tell you. I love those kids, you know I do, but Mindy and I really need this. You have no idea."

Tim sighed and nodded slowly. "OK, Billy. But I want a few days off afterwards to recover."

"Deal."

Tim stood up and walked out into the garage. He found Al closing the hood of the Mazda Miata.

"Clutch done?"

"Yep." She tossed him the keys. "Want to take it for the test drive?"

"Sure. Come with me?"

"We really shouldn't both be gone. There's so much to do around here."

"Come on, ten minutes won't make a difference."

"But Billy-"

"Billy, me and Al are going to test out the clutch in the Miata," shouted Tim.

"Fine!" hollered back Billy. Tim gave Al a huge "told you so" grin as he opened the passenger's side door for her.

Tim backed carefully out of the garage and then headed out to a deserted road on the edge of town. He sped up and slowed down, moving smoothly through the gears and listening to the engine. The clutch felt good and the engine was humming along nicely. When he turned the car around, he smiled at Al.

"You do good work."

She smiled back. When they returned to the garage, he parked the car outside and handed her the keys.

"Hey Al, can ask you for a favor?"

"Of course you can."

"You know how Billy and Mindy are going away this week?"

She nodded.

"Well, their babysitter's kid has the chicken pox and I agreed to help Billy out, but I really need a wingman on this one. TJ's wobbly neck scares the shit out of me. Please, I need your help."

Al's eyes went wide and a strange expression settled on her face.

"You know I'll help you, but you have to make sure it's fine with both Billy _and_ Mindy."

Tim waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, they'll be fine with it."

"No, Tim. You have to ask them. Specifically." Her voice was clear and clipped.

Tim's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I don't understand what the big deal is. Billy told me to find a girl to help me. You're a girl. You're related to Mindy and work with Billy, so it's not like you're some stranger off the street."

"Tim, just ask him."

Tim put his hands up. "OK. OK. C'mon, I'll ask him. You can watch so you know I did it."

Tim walked into Billy's office and waited for Al to catch up with him.

"Hey Billy, is it okay if Al helps me with the babysitting?"

A look of surprise crossed Billy's face and he tried to smother it and look reassuring. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

Al cleared her throat and looked at Tim.

"What about Mindy? Will you please ask her if it's okay?" asked Tim, still not sure what the big deal was.

"C'mere, Al, have a seat. Help me make one of those speaker phone calls and we can ask her together."

Al walked over with the bearing of one headed for the firing squad.

"Timmy, I need you to get started on Emmet's truck, please?"

"Yeah, of course. Let me know what Mindy says."

He walked out and turned toward the garage. He paused, straining to hear Billy and Al's hushed conversation.

"I think this will be really good for you Al, and I'm sure Mins'll be fine with it, but we'll call her anyway, just so make you comfortable."

Tim shook his head and went into the garage. He decided he didn't care what the deal was, as long as he had Al to help him with his niece and nephew.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

"I don't understand why you don't just have Al do this," Tim asked Billy.

"Because Al, she's a great girl, God love her, but she lives to work. I tell her I'm doing this and she's gonna try to talk me out of it. And even though I think I'm doing the right thing, and God knows y'all are going to need the days to recover, she'd somehow argue me right into a corner and I'd be agreeing with her before I knew what hit me."

"Her Jedi mind trick," said Tim with a knowing grin.

"Exactly, her damn Jedi mind trick."

"But don't you think she'd be better at getting people to change their appointments?"

"Yeah, but I know she won't do it so we do it my way. Now, please, keep an eye on her so she doesn't come in her until it's all done."

Tim did as Billy requested, but he didn't need to worry. Al was working on figuring what was wrong with Mrs. Collins' ancient Dodge Dart and Tim knew she wouldn't step away from that car until she knew what the problem was.

Over the next hour, Billy juggled around their appointments for the next few days so that he could close the garage on Wednesday and the next Monday and Tuesday, instead of just the long Thanksgiving weekend. He didn't encounter as many irate customers as he had expected and he was able to sweet-talk most of them into going along with the new schedule. The few who balked got ten percent discounts and Billy was confident that he wouldn't lose any customers.

When Al heard, she was impressed with Billy's initiative and organizing skills. Tim also suspected she was more relieved to have the time off than she let on. She spent their evening at home in a nervous blur of activity, packing for their time at Billy's and cleaning the already spotless kitchen.

In the morning, she was a bit more relaxed. She didn't even seem too annoyed that Tim was, as usual, way behind schedule.

"Hey, I'm taking Bruno to the kennel then I'll come back and get you."

Tim looked up from his breakfast. "I thought he was just coming with us?"

"No. We're going to be way too busy to look after him and he hasn't spent much time around babies, so the kennel is probably the best place for him."

"But isn't that like doggy jail? You don't want to send Bruno to doggy jail do you?" Tim whistled Bruno over and scratched his neck. He also slipped the dog some toast when he thought Al wasn't looking.

"I saw that. And it is not doggy jail. Anyway, it's only for a few days and he'll be so happy to come home, he won't even remember that he was gone."

While she was gone, Tim pulled some socks, underwear, and t-shirts from the dryer and stuffed them into his backpack. He went upstairs and found a marginally clean pair of jeans and added those as well. Then he headed outside and waited for Al on the front porch.

She pulled in the driveway and he was in the truck before she barely had a chance to stop it.

"Where's your stuff?" she asked as she pulled out of the driveway and headed toward Billy and Mindy's house.

"Right here," he motioned to his backpack. "Where's yours."

She pointed to the bed of the truck. Tim turned and saw a duffle bag big enough to hold an adult's body.

"You know we're only there until Saturday afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. And you know we're taking care of two children under two years old, right?"

"So?"

"So. I bet you that by Friday night, you're going to be raiding Billy's closet."

"You wanna bet me, huh? OK then, what's your bet?" He gave her his best wicked grin, hoping that she wouldn't go for a boring bet like money.

"A hundred bucks."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. A hundred bucks. You're on."

He held out his hand to shake on the deal, which she did at the next stoplight. He squeezed her hand tightly and held it for maybe a few seconds longer than was strictly necessarily, enjoying the blush that crept up her cheeks.

Soon, they were pulling into the driveway at Billy's and parking next to what Tim called Mindy's Mom-mobile, a Dodge Caravan. Laughing at Billy for having to drive a minivan occasionally would never get old. Billy still had his Trans-Am of course, but he had to drive the Mom-mobile whenever they were going anywhere with the kids.

Mindy and Amber greeted them at the door. The little girl was walking around pretty well, which lent a whole new layer of terror to watching her. Tim soon realized that his weekend would be spent chasing around after her, making sure she didn't pull anything down on top of her or tumble over and bash her head on something. As long as Al was happy to handle TJ and his wobbly neck and soft head, Tim thought he could manage Amber.

Mindy had left them about a dozen lists, money for pizza for Thanksgiving dinner, and the keys to the Mom-mobile just in case they wanted to go somewhere. She seemed torn between wanting to stay and to leave. In the end, Billy had to practically drag her out the door.

"Now what?" asked Tim after the door shut.

"Now we hope we get through the next three nights and four days as painlessly as possible," Al said with a grin.

Amber chose that moment to go running off toward the kitchen and Tim took off after her, scooping her up just as she started to trip into the side of the cupboard. He spun her around in the air, making her giggle.

"Tim, I don't know how much you wanna be spinning her like that," warned Al.

"You're no fun," replied Tim. He spun around a few more times and then brought Amber over to the couch, where he sat down next to Al and TJ.

"You know, their heads are so soft and fragile, why don't they just wear helmets all the time? Don't you think that would make life so much easier?"

"It's way too early in the weekend for you to be having crazy ideas. You've got to pace yourself better than this if you're going to make it through."

"I'm serious. This could be my big idea. I'm going to talk to Billy about it. He'll see the genius in it."

Amber started pulling on his shirt and he looked down at her. "Again? You want to spin again?"

His niece smiled and giggled, so Tim stood and held her up, turning in gentle circles that soon became a bit faster.

"Hold on there, kid. I'm starting to get dizzy." He sat back down on the couch and held Amber on his lap, facing him.

"We could make them stylish. The helmets. Even girls would want to wear them. Everyone would want to wear them."

Amber opened her mouth, as if to agree with him, but vomited all over his shirt instead.

Al tried not to laugh, but failed. "So, Tim, how many shirts have you got in that little bag of yours."

"Shut up," said Tim as he stood up. "And help me, please."

Al put TJ in his swing and took Amber into the bathroom to clean her up and then change her clothes. At least she was fine and laughing.

When Al carried her out of her room, Tim was back on the couch.

"Two more shirts after this one," he said. "How much longer until this weekend is over?"

Al grinned. "We've only been here ten minutes."

Tim groaned.. It was going to be a very long weekend.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Over the next three days, Al gave Tim a crash course in the care of infants and toddlers. It wasn't pretty, either. One of Amber's back teeth decided that late Wednesday night would be a great time to make its first appearance, an event that made the child grumpy, uncomfortable, and uncooperative. Her disquiet was contagious as TJ also became fussy and woke up several times during the night.

Tim lost his bet with Al even earlier than she'd predicted. Wednesday night, TJ threw a bowl of mashed peas at Tim, ruining his second clean shirt. Amber finished the job Thursday morning when she crashed into the table and Al's lukewarm coffee spilled into Tim's lap. Tim scribbled an IOU note to Al on the back of a grocery receipt and told her he didn't want to hear any giggling.

It was an exhausting and difficult couple of days, but through it all, Tim watched Al with admiration. He couldn't believe that she'd been so nervous about taking on the responsibilities. More nervous that he had been, in fact. But she was great with the kids. She seemed to intuitively know what they needed and to anticipate their moves.

Friday night, Al sat in a rocking chair next to the couch and gave TJ his evening bottle, then burped and rocked him. Tim sat on the couch, with Amber curled up next to him as he read _Where the Wild Things Are_. When Tim paused for a moment to appreciate the pictures, he realized both children were fast asleep. The silence, after an entire day of screaming and squealing, was beautiful.

Tim stood up. He smiled at Al and she smiled back. His thoughts veered off into left field, into a far away future where he had his own house and wife and a few kids. For the first time in his life, it seemed possible and desirable. Caught up in the moment, he leaned over to kiss Al, before remembering that he didn't want to pressure her.

He was able to shift gears and play it like his intention had always been to kiss TJ on the top of his soft little head. As he leaned down, he noticed that Al smelled like spring. Like flowers, rain, and freshly cut grass. It was intoxicating and Tim felt a little dizzy. As he pulled away, he saw that his nephew had grabbed a tiny fistful of Al's shirt and pulled it down, revealing a tattoo of Curious George. Tim smiled to himself, picked up Amber and carried her into her room.

When he returned to the living room, Al and TJ were gone. Tim smiled because the baby monitor was on and he could hear everything. Al was talking partially in baby-talk and partially in a normal voice. She carried on a whole conversation with TJ while she changed his diaper. Then she laid him back into his crib and sang to him in a foreign language. She sang the same song three times before she wished the baby sweet dreams and crept out of his room.

Tim hoped that Al would come and sit down next to him, which she did, settling into the couch with an exhausted sigh.

"What was the song you were singing?"

"Oh god, you could hear me? Was I that loud?"

He shook his head and smiled, then gestured toward the baby monitor.

"Oh, right. I'll have to remember that and make sure I don't trash talk Uncle Timmy the next time I'm back there."

"You haven't answered my question. What was the song?"

"Sorry....it's an Irish rebel song my grandmother used to sing to me. It's about going back to Ireland and fighting against the English."

"For real?"

"Yeah. The Irish were great at singing songs about fighting the English and rebelling. Not so great at the actual fighting and rebelling through." Al gave him a tired smile.

"Your grandmother was Irish?"

"Yeah, born there." Al yawned and looked at her watch. "We're down to less than 20 hours now until this babysitting thing is finished. Not that I'm counting or anything."

Tim smiled at her. "You know, you're really great at this."

Al shook her head. "You're not so bad yourself."

"I'm serious. It's like you just _know_ what they need and how to take care of them. And you're so patient. You're going to be a great Mom some day. I know you are." His smile was warm and his voice was deep and sincere.

"Tim," her voice held an unspoken warning and she wouldn't meet his eye.

He stopped and replayed the conversation in his head. He didn't think he'd said anything mean or insensitive. He didn't understand why Al was getting upset.

"What did I say wrong? I'm telling you the truth here. You've been great and I wouldn't have been able to survive these past few days without you. You're really good at this."

Al turned her head and pulled her knees up to her chest. Tim stood up, walked over in front of her, and crouched down. He gathered both of her hands in one of his and reached out his other hand to catch her chin between his thumb and first finger. He gently lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eye. He watched the tears silently roll down her cheeks and took a deep breath.

"Al, I think 'Some Day' is here."

"Some Day?"

"The day you tell me what happened."

She looked at him for what seemed like an impossibly long time and then gave him a small, nearly imperceptible, nod. Tim stood up, grabbed a box of tissues from the counter and then sat down next to Al and waited.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim leaned back and waited for Al to talk. She had already gone through a few tissues, but seemed to have gotten the tears mostly under control. He'd waited for months to hear this story, he could wait a little while longer.

He didn't want to fidget, but he didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted, more than anything, to hold her hand or rub her back or do something physical to comfort her. But he didn't want to crowd or pressure her. He knew he was thinking too much, that he was at his best when he was just reacting to a situation, but it was quiet and there was nothing else to do.

He tipped his head so he could look over at Al without staring at her straight-on. The tears had stopped. She was twisting a Kleenex and seemed like she was trying to talk but having a hard time knowing where to start.

He wondered for a minute where he would start, if someone asked him about Six. Would he start at the game? At the exact play? At the accident? Would it be easier to fast-forward to the worst bits? Or would he want to give....what was that word Landry liked to use when he helped Tim with English Lit....Context. Would he want to give context first, to set things up so what he lost and how badly he screwed up would be clear?

"I know it's hard. Start anywhere. Wherever is easiest. At the very end or way back before the beginning. Doesn't matter – we've got all night," he told her in a soft voice.

She gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

"I never had a boyfriend in high school. I too nerdy, too much of a jock, too much of a tomboy. Plus, it was a small school and we'd all known each other since kindergarten or before."

Tim nodded and tried to picture Al in high school.

"I got into better colleges, but University of North Dakota gave me a full scholarship, so I went there and I loved it. The first few weeks were a blur of classes and parties, making new friends, enjoying the freedom. It was great and got even better when I met Stephen, who was a few years older than me and wanted to go to law school." Al turned so she was facing Tim, one leg folded underneath her and her arm stretched out along the top of the couch.

"Meeting him...it was like finding the rest of me. We were perfect for each other and I loved him so much. When my mom died, he came home with me for the funeral, skipped a week of classes just so he could hold my hand and help me through everything."

"He could have gone to any of a number of good law schools, but I still had two more years of college and then I was going to med school. He stayed at UND to be with me. And I worked my ass off to finish college a year early and then stayed to get a Masters in genetics. We figured then, I could go to medical school and he could get a job near to me. I had my heart set on Harvard. Even though Stephen wasn't wild about the East Coast, I knew he'd follow me anywhere...I'm sorry, I know this story doesn't really sound like it's going anywhere." She sighed and looked down.

"It's okay. Context is important." Tim turned to face her, putting his arm along the top of the couch right next to her arm.

"We never officially got engaged, but the way we twisted up our futures together, I knew it was only a matter of time before we got married. We had so many plans. I used to joke that our plans had plans.

"Kids....kids were definitely in the plan." Her voice caught in her throat.

"Want a glass of water?" Tim asked..

"No, but I'd love a glass of Scotch."

"Uh, I don't think Billy drinks that, but there are probably some beers outside."

"No, thanks. It wouldn't really make this any easier. Nothing would." She took a deep breath and continued. "I found out I was pregnant the same day I got my acceptance letter from Harvard. Stephen and I had been careful, but not always as careful as we should have been. There was never any question of what we would do. We knew it would be hard, the timing wasn't great and we'd have to make adjustments. But it was just like parts of our plans had happened earlier than expected, that's all.

"We got married a few weeks later, eloped really, and I turned Harvard down for UND Med School, who were offering a scholarship and we were already settled in Grand Forks. Stephen got into this special appellate law program, you know, like lawyers who write appeals after a case is over and dream of arguing before the Supreme Court one day?" Al looked up at Tim.

He nodded. Another of the things he loved about Al – she knew so much more than he did, but was always able to tell him what he didn't know without making him ask or making him feel stupid.

"Our daughter, Avery, was born on Christmas Eve of my first year in med school. Her timing was great, just at the beginning of my winter break, I didn't have to miss any classes. She was perfect. Tiny, but perfect." Al paused and scanned the ceiling like the rest of the story was written up there.

Tim put his hand on her arm, his thumb rubbing small circles into the muscle.

"Medical school, a newborn, a husband who was working crazy hours....the next few months were a blur. I swear, sometimes, my life just felt like one never-ending day. Stephen was a great father, I couldn't have asked for a better husband, but sometimes, it was bordering on impossible to get through the day."

Having had the recent babysitting experience, Tim had no doubt that an infant combined with everything else would have been beyond difficult.

"Avery was five months old, just starting to babble these crazy, happy baby sounds and nearly able to sit up on her own. Stephen had to go to St. Paul for a week because two cases he'd worked on were in front of the 8th Circuit Appeals Court. I had my last final, in my hardest class, on the Friday of the week he was away."

Tim felt the tension in her arm and he braced himself. He knew the bad part was coming soon, that there could be no happy ending here, he just didn't know how they were going to get from the happy little family in North Dakota to the broken woman in front of him.

"They told me later that stress, fatigue, break in routine, these things all contributed. I studied several hours a night for several nights and then was up with Avery, who was getting her first tooth. The night before the final was the worst and I nearly slept through my alarm that morning. I had to get her over to the day care center and get to my test.

"As I was putting her in the car seat, she puked on me. I put her diaper bag on the floor of the car and got her strapped into the seat, then raced into the house to change. Before I got into the car, I checked on Avery. She was sleeping and I wished that I could have joined her. I couldn't remember ever being so tired.

"On the way to the day care center, Stephen called, so I pulled over to the side of the road for a quick conversation with him. He wanted to wish me good luck and let me know that he was going to argue his case that morning. I turned my phone off after we talked, so it wouldn't ring during the exam." Al's voice was rough and she paused to catch her breath.

Tim felt tenser than a coiled spring. He kept waiting for the impact of a crash or a bolt of lightening or something to shatter the story.

"There was road construction that day, a short detour, and now I was really rushing because I was about to be late for the final. I got to school just in time, took the test, and then collapsed to catch a few hours of sleep in the student lounge."

Al shifted, bringing her legs up onto the couch so she could bend her knees and wrap her arms around her legs. She put her head down on her knees and Tim could feel the grief radiating from her.

"I forgot. I just forgot," she said finally.

Tim was confused. He mentally retraced her steps. It hit him with the force of an angry defensive lineman. Tim slid closer to her, pulled her into his lap and held her while she sobbed. He was just reacting, not thinking, because to think about what she was going through, what she had gone through, would be too damn difficult. And if it was that difficult as an outsider, how much more difficult was it to live through it?

"Avery. Jesus, I drove all the way to the day care center in the afternoon and all the time, she was right where I left her. In her car seat. In my car." Al's voice was a strangled whisper. Her head was on Tim's shoulder and he could feel his shirt getting wet from her tears. He held her tightly and wished he was able to do more, to take on some of her guilt and pain.

"Nightmare in hell doesn't even begin to describe it. I didn't want a sedative, I needed to suffer the way my daughter must have suffered, alone, trapped in a hot car. I'm not sure how I got through the next few days. It was like sleepwalking. Stephen came home and he tried, he really did try, but he couldn't comfort me and I couldn't comfort him. We'd gone from being halves of the same whole to islands on opposite sides of a stormy ocean. It was over and we both knew it.

A few days after the funeral, the District Attorney told me he wouldn't be pressing charges, that what I'd done was a tragic accident that I'd have to live with for the rest of my life. Grand Forks was suddenly the smallest town in the world. Everyone knew who I was, what I'd done. They'd seen me on the news or in the newspaper. The judgement, the whispers, the rude remarks. It was unbearable.

"So I left. Drove to New York City and spent three months with one of my brothers, pretty much trying to get through each day without hurting myself. Not that I thought I deserved that much, I just didn't know what else to do."

Tim kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back like he was trying to calm a child who'd had a bad dream instead of a woman who lived a nightmare. He thought that he was prepared for her story, that he had an idea of what happened. That the stupid things he'd done and the ways he'd hurt people would give him common ground. But Al's grief, regret and guilt put her on a different planet and he'd need a space ship to reach her.

"What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother forgets her own kid?"

Tim cleared his throat and chose his words carefully, like stepping through a minefield. "Al, it was a horrible mistake. You didn't do it on purpose. You didn't leave her in there because you were drunk or high or didn't want her. You were exhausted and it was like your auto-pilot took over."

He felt her hand on his chest, the small weight of it somehow reassuring him that he was on the right path. Not that his words would ever give her any scrap of solace, but he was relieved that he hadn't driven a wedge between them. Because he still thought that she could, would, but a great mother. A loving and carrying, firm but gentle mother. She wouldn't be the kind of mother who spends all her time drinking and then just disappears one day, leaving her kids to fend for themselves, never mind if they're ready or not.

The baby monitor squawked and they could hear TJ crying, his little lungs ramping up into an angry crescendo. Al swiped at her eyes and scrambled off the couch.

"I've got him," she said.

"I can, if you'd rather," Tim said, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

She shook her head and smiled. "I'm afraid of a lot of things, but his wobbly neck doesn't scare me."

He returned her smile and watched her walk back to the bedroom.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note: I think there will be a few more chapters after this. I got the idea from reading a newspaper article several weeks ago, which stayed with me and has had me wondering about these people and how they manage to go on.**

I've tried to put the link in, but this editor thingy doesn't seem to like it. If you want to read the story, Google +"washington post" +"fatal distraction" and that should get you there.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim followed Al back to Billy's room and leaned against the door frame, watching while she tended to the baby. TJ had gotten himself turned around and wedged into a corner, so she picked him up, calmed him down and was resettling him in the middle of the crib.

"Are you checking my work?" she finally asked with a faint hint of defensiveness.

"No," he shook his head, eyes wide and face blank. "I like watching you. I didn't think that was a secret. And I still think you're good with kids."

"Well, you'd be the only one with that opinion."

Al pushed past Tim and headed back into the living room, where she lay down on the couch, leaving the end at her feet for Tim. He smiled at her and grabbed her ankles, pulled her down a little, and then sat down, deftly replacing the arm of the couch as her pillow.

She turned on her side, facing away from him, and put her hand on his knee. He gave a contented sigh and buried a hand in her hair, the curls piling up around her shoulders.

"Did this just happen this past May?" Tim asked.

She shook her head. "Three years ago. Those couple of months with my brother were just barely survivable. I had anonymity in New York, but everyone who knew me -- my brothers, their wives, my father -- everyone had an opinion of what I should do. Turn my life over to Jesus. Become some sort of advocate. Go around to play groups and schools and be the Bad Example.

"None of those sounded right to me. Joining the bomb squad. Being one of those crazy people who jumps out helicopters in storms to save boaters. Becoming a firefighter. Those sounded like decent ideas.

"But I was never going to be able to pass the physical tests for those jobs. Besides, I'm not real keen on fire and I'm terrified of the ocean. But I could see the common theme. A physicality. I wanted to be busy and at the end of the day, I wanted to be so tired, I couldn't think or feel anything. There was also a riskiness. I knew I couldn't actively kill myself but I didn't much care if someone or something else did it for me.

"In the end, I got a job as a truck mechanic in Iraq for an oil company."

"Iraq?"

"Yeah. The work was hard, the conditions were miserable, and each day carried the threat of something horrible happening. It was perfect."

Tim nodded slowly because really, it wasn't all that different than going to a redneck bar to pick a fight. More extreme, maybe, but at least she was smart enough to get paid for her trouble.

"So you were there until you moved to Dillon?"

"Yeah. I moved to Dillon last summer, about a month before you went back to college. Mindy and I had been friends forever and she was one of the few people who never judged me. Oh, she gave me an earful for sure when I told her about Iraq, but you know Mins. She's mighty opinionated, but she's not judgemental, not of the people she loves.

"I got a few weeks off last summer and came to see her and Amber. She told me I'd been a jackass for long enough, that it was time for me to get my head out of ass and join the world of the living, instead of hoping to become a ghost. So I did – I didn't even go back to Iraq, just called my boss and quit over the phone."

"And then you came to work for Billy after I went back to school."

"Pretty much. And now you know everything."

"Well, I still don't know your real first name," he said.

"Nope. And you're not going to. It's terrible, really. Doesn't suit me at all."

"No. I suppose Al suits you pretty well....and what about Friday nights?"

She sighed. "I tell myself I can live with the guilt. Just keep putting my left foot in front of my right foot. Nod in the right places. Say the right things. I've got this fresh start, where the only people who know are people who care about me. And six days out of the week, that mostly works. But on the seventh day, my subconscious knows too much and it's never going to let me forgive or forget.

"The nightmares come every Friday night. Mostly, they're about being trapped and burning alive. Other times, Avery's in danger and I can save her, if I can just find her, but I can't. The worst one is when I do find her and she just disappears out of my arms. And I can never wake up, never shake myself out of them. Passing out helps, maybe I still have them, maybe I don't, I'm too drunk to care."

"It's Friday."

"It is."

"Are you worried about having the nightmares tonight then?"

Al shrugged. "I'm not worried about it. I _know_ I'm going to have them. It's just how things are."

"Would it help if I stayed with you?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I know," he said simply and rubbed her shoulder. "Just go to sleep. I'll be here. I promise"

She stood up and he tried to keep the sense of rejection off of his face. She held out a hand to him.

"I would like you to stay with me. But the couch isn't going to be comfortable for you."

He stood up and took her hand, allowing her to lead him back to Billy and Mindy's room, where TJ was making quiet little baby snores that were completely adorable. Tim lay down on the bed and pulled Al in after him, holding her close to his side while running his hand through her hair. He kissed her on the top of the head and whispered good-night, smiling when he felt her press her lips to his chest, just above his heart.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

When Tim woke up the next morning in his brother's bed, alone and completely clothed, it took him a few sleepy seconds to remember how he'd gotten there. He knew a little bit about going to bed with someone and waking up with regrets. He hoped that wouldn't be the case here. Nothing had happened last night, nothing except Al turning her soul inside out and showing him the worst part of her past.

He was concerned that she might regret letting him get that close. He knew a thing or two about pushing people away. He could probably write a whole book about the subject. Waking up with her not in the bed was a warning sign. Fact.

He sighed and rolled out of bed, then raided Billy's dresser for a clean shirt. After changing his shirt, he headed out into the living room, unsure of what would await him there.

He found Amber in the play pen, gnawing on the conductor from the Fisher Price circus train. Al was bustling around the kitchen in high cleaning mode.

"Morning, Al. Where's TJ?"

"Right here." She turned around and smiled. She had him strapped to her in a bright pink contraption of some sort. "I found this in Amber's room. I don't know why Mindy never uses it, but it makes life so much easier."

"What is it?" Tim yawned and scratched his head. TJ looked happy, that was for sure. Happier than he had all weekend.

"A baby sling. I used one all the time with Avery."

Her voice cracked a little when she said her daughter's name, but that she said it at all seemed like a positive sign.

"What are you doing? Cleaning? The place looks better than it has for years." He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.

"You ever go camping?"

"Yeah, why?" If there was a connection between camping and cleaning, Tim couldn't see it.

"My grandma used to take us. Her golden rule of camping was to always leave the campsite better than you'd found it."

"Your Irish grandmother?"

She nodded and smiled, pleased that he'd remembered that detail.

"I know you clean when you're nervous. What's making you nervous enough to clean the house like this? You must have been at it for hours."

"A few." She blushed.

"C'mere." He pulled his chair away from the table and took her hand when she got close, easing her into his lap. He kept one arm around her and rested the other on TJ, idly making the baby laugh and smile by tickling his chin.

"I want a pony for Christmas," said Al.

Tim gave her a serious look. He was learning how to not let her sidetrack him. "What's wrong?"

She shrugged. "I haven't told anyone that story. Haven't said those words out loud in three years. I don't know what happens next. How it changes things."

She was so short, they were practically eye-to-eye. He considered the words he could say, but he'd never been good at talking about this kind of stuff.

"I understand what it took for you to tell me. And, on my side, nothing changes. I still meant everything I told you up on the roof at Amber's party. I'm hoping that what changes is that you'll give me, give us a chance."

She looked into his eyes for half of an eternity. He listened to her breathing, to the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, to his nephew's happy gurgles. He listened and waited.

Softly. Softly.

She brought her hand up and placed it gently on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a short, sweet kiss.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Billy and Mindy were home several hours early, which was fine by Tim. The kids were starting to get fussy again and he liked that he was able to walk out the door without any guilt. He loved being Uncle Timmy. For now, it was enough. Some day down the line, he might want more, but if the weekend had taught him anything, it was that he wasn't anywhere near ready to be a father.

Al and Tim spent their next few days catching up on sleep and lavishing Bruno with attention after his time in doggy jail. He got more walks in those few days than he had in the last month. The weather was on the warm side and Tim enjoyed wandering through their neighborhood, holding Al's hand and talking about whatever came to mind.

They were feeling their way around this dating thing, made more complicated by the fact that they both worked and lived together. On their Sunday walk to Smitty's, Al had brought up the living arrangements.

"If you feel like you want to move out, I'll understand," she said.

He laughed and shook his head.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"A little, maybe."

"Why?"

"Because, Al, you're the dumbest smart person I know."

She knocked into his side, hard. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm right where I want to be and you shouldn't worry about it."

"But we're going to be working together too."

"Yeah, and I have a truck and my own room, so if I want to be by myself, I can be. Don't over-think this," he said, stopping suddenly and lifting her up to kiss her. During the kiss, he turned them around so they were walking back to their place.

She looked at him quizzically. "You forget something at home?"

"No. But I changed my mind about how I want to spend our first afternoon together."

"Is that so?" She looked up at him with a sly grin.

He lengthened his stride and winked at her. "Yep. That OK with you?"

"Perfect," she replied as she squeezed his hand.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Nothing much changed at work, either, when they returned when the garage re-opened on Wednesday. Billy had pulled Tim aside and tried to give him a small lecture about appropriate behavior in the workplace, but Tim cut him off with a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Billy had asked.

"Al already told me how things were going to be."

"Oh, well if Al's told you. Her standards of professionalism are probably even higher than mine."

"You think?" asked Tim, dodging his brother's playful slap.

In any event, they were too busy at the garage over the next few days for Tim to even think about flirting with Al while they were at work. Billy had messed up and made some double-bookings, but Tim and Al volunteered to work overtime so Billy would be able to go home. Nobody wanted to get on Mindy's bad side, which is what would happen if Billy were late getting home.

It suited Tim fine, since he and Al would get dinner delivered, play loud music, and work at a steady, relaxed pace. Billy had been stressed out the last couple of days, so Tim was nearly relieved when he wasn't at the garage.

The arrangement especially suited Tim on Friday. He'd never been a fan of Drown Your Sorrows in Scotch Nights at Al's house. Even though he understood why she did it, it still killed him to think of it. The passing-out outside part bothered him most, since anything could happen and it showed that her self-destructive tendencies could still get the upper hand.

But even though it bothered him, he didn't quite know how to stop it. He knew that Tyra would nominate him for the Hypocrite of the Year Award, if she ever found out that he was lecturing someone about problem drinking.

They didn't get home on Friday until past 10. Tim watched Al drop her backpack near the front door and head straight into the kitchen to feed Bruno. He waited, nearly holding his breath, to see what she did next, which was, predictably, to go to the cupboard and pull out the latest bottle of Scotch, some slightly milder stuff called Oban. She grabbed a few glasses and headed for the sliding glass door, pausing to look over her shoulder at Tim.

"How about we stay in tonight?" he suggested, sitting on the couch.

She looked like she was about to argue, but instead shrugged. She went over to the coffee table, poured a generous amount of Scotch into each glass, and then got up and walked around the room, adjusting the light switches so that the room was lit by only a single dim, soft bulb. She picked up her glass and then sat down next to Tim, tucking a leg underneath her so she could face him.

He waited until she'd had one drink and had poured her second before he spoke.

"You know I worry about you, right?" He kept his voice low and soft. He reached out a hand to trace patterns on her neck, in the spots that he knew were especially sensitive. If he'd learned a lot about Al's past and her state of mind over the weekend they were babysitting, then he'd learned even more about her body in the days since. It was a subject he loved studying and, unlike English Lit, a subject that he excelled in.

"Yeah, I know." She sighed. "And you might always be worried about me, because I might never be normal."

"No one's normal. Or everyone's normal. I haven't quite figured that one out yet, but normal is really irrelevant," he said.

"But you're worried about me, so what can I do to change that?"she asked.

"I'm not sure how to ask you this, or if I have any right to ask you, but, well, Crazy Drinking Scotch Outside Fridays have got to go."

She nodded slowly, but didn't say anything. He waited, wishing that he could read her mind.

"Would Moderate Drinking Scotch Inside Fridays work for you?"

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I think I can work with that."

"So what counts as moderate?"

"I don't know, Little Bit, but I would bet that for you, it's not much more than 1 or 2 shots. Tops."

She gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs. "You know, I'm going to be a lot more agreeable if you're not always teasing me about my size."

"I can't help it. You're so tease-able," he said, leaning over to tease her in a whole new way, both of their drinks left untouched on the coffee table.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: Nearly done. I think two or three chapters more and that'll be it. Thanks for the reviews.  
**

The next several weeks passed quickly and soon, it was the Monday before Christmas. Tim and Al went into the garage early because several shipments of parts had been delivered on Friday afternoon, when they just hadn't been able to face putting them away. They worked well together, despite Tim's aversion to early mornings, and were making steady progress on the parts when the phone rang.

Al answered it in Billy's office, so Tim could only hear her voice, not her words. She came out whistling, though, and went right to the front desk. He wandered over to see what was going on and watched Al reach into the bottom drawer and pull out several CDs.

"That was The Boss. He's not going to be in today. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," said Tim with smile.

"Dance Party!" shouted Al, waving her arms above her head while Tim grinned

Billy was sort of unreasonable about music in the shop, the same way he'd always been unreasonable about music in his car. His car, his music. His shop, his music, which was always country music except during football season, when it wasn't music at all but Slammin' Sammy Mead and Panther talk radio. Tim didn't mind so much but Al was not a fan of country music and her preferences tended toward the bizarre – German pop music and 80s alternative rock being two of her favorites.

She held the CDs up to Tim and let him pick. He had to put the CD in anyway, since Billy had put the stereo on a shelf that he knew Al couldn't reach. Tim adjusted the volume and soon the garage was filled with the Hits of the Eighties.

Tim walked over to Al and started to dance with her, holding her hand above her head and watching her twirl in circles. Then he pulled her in and held her close, leaning down to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear what else they could do since Billy was gone. He untucked her shirt and put his hand on the bare skin of her back, surprised that she was letting the rules of professional behavior slide so far, but then the garage wasn't technically open yet.

"I'm sorry, excuse me, I'm supposed to—oh, hi Tim." It was Lyla, early as usual for the appointment Buddy had set up weeks ago and Tim had forgotten about entirely. The girl stood uncertainly near the front desk.

Al flushed bright red as she pulled away from Tim and tucked her shirt in, but to her credit, she stepped up to the desk like nothing was out of the ordinary. Tim put his hands on his hips and waited to see what would happen.

"You're supposed to drop your car off today, sure. Let me have a look at the computer.... Lyla?"

"Yes, Lyla Garrity. My father made the appointment a few weeks ago."

"Of course. So it's just a general service then. When was the last time it had a service?"

"Well, late August, before I left for school, but," she paused and looked around. "Don't tell my father, I did take it in for an oil change at a Jiffy Lube in October."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I kept telling Buddy there were mechanics up in Nashville but he didn't believe me or something. Has the car been giving you any trouble? Slow to start? Funny noises? Burning or leaking anything?"

"No, ma'am."

"OK, it should be a straightforward service then, no more than an hour. If you give me the keys, I'll bring the car in and get started. You're welcome to wait in our break room, if you want. Tim was just about to make some coffee."

Lyla smiled uncertainly and looked at Tim, who gave her a small nod. Al took Lyla's keys, pressed the button to open the garage door. As Al came around the desk, she paused in front of Lyla.

"Where are my manners? My grandmother would be mortified, but better late than never. Hi, I'm Al." She held out her hand and Lyla took it tentatively. Tim grinned as he saw Lyla's eyes widen at Al's killer grip. It was way more amusing though to watch when Al did that to grown men.

"Pleased to meet you," said Lyla.

"Timmy, take good care of her," said Al with a grin as she turned to fetch the red Chevy Aveo that had been a Christmas present from Buddy.

"You got it, boss," said Tim, motioning for Lyla to follow him into the break room.

He pulled out a seat for her and then started making coffee in what he called Al's chemistry lab. She'd told him at least twenty times what the thing was called and each time, he just told her "chemistry lab" until she'd finally given up.

"So, my father said you were living with some girl named Al. That's her then?" asked Lyla.

"Yep. You didn't think there were two girls called Al in Dillon, did you?"

"No, I suppose not." Lyla was fidgeting, which Tim found amusing. When he was in the airport, waiting for his flight, he had pictured what it would be like the next time he met up with Lyla. The things he'd say to her. But over the weeks following his disastrous trip to Vanderbilt, he found that he'd thought about it less and less. Now he couldn't think of a single thing to say. And he found it didn't bother him a bit.

He put the chemistry lab and two clean mugs on the table, then got the sugar and milk. He sat down across from Lyla in a seat that let him see out onto the garage floor to where Al was working on the Aveo.

"So, you're happy then?" Lyla asked.

"Yeah. I am. How's Rafe?"

Lyla looked down. "We broke up. While I was with him in Spain. We had this huge fight in a nightclub in Barcelona and he just left me there. It was awful."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Tim, surprised to find that he actually meant it.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I am so sorry. For the way things happened. For the way you found out about it. For not trying harder to contact you. For being the reason you dropped out of college."

Tim sighed. "You're not the reason I dropped out of college. You're the reason I went in the first place."

"What happened to us, Tim?"

He took a deep breath and let it out through puffed-up cheeks while shaking his head. "I don't know. You changed. I didn't change enough. You wanted something different and I just wanted you. But then I realized I couldn't keep doing it to myself. Couldn't keep wanting someone who was always going to want a different version of me."

Her eyes widened. It had always been her eyes that got to him and set off the butterflies in his stomach. He didn't feel it this morning though.

"Is that really what you think I wanted? A different version of you?"

"No, Lyla, it's what I _know_ you wanted. And if you were at all honest with yourself, you would admit that I'm right."

Tim watched her chin jut out and knew that she was too proud to ever admit that he was right. She was quiet for several minutes, watching as he finished making the coffee and poured them each a cup.

"Is there any possibility of trying again?" she asked.

"You want one more chance?"

She nodded.

"Lyla, does that ever work out for anyone? Tyra says these things are all about timing. I think the clock ran out on us a long, long time ago."

Lyla busied herself with putting sugar and milk in her coffee. Tim listened to the music from the garage, as the familiar strains of Al's favorite song, "Tainted Love", came on. He grinned to himself as he watched her dancing around, singing. Lyla looked up and followed his gaze, then looked back at him.

"I hope it works out for you," she said, not unkindly. Tim knew she wasn't bitter.

"She just right for me, you know. We get each other," Tim said quietly.

Lyla nodded and changed the subject, asking about Billy and Mindy and the kids. They spent the next half-hour talking about mutual friends and catching up on gossip like the former classmates they were. Al called on the intercom to tell Tim the car was ready.

Tim walked her out to the front desk and waited while Lyla paid her bill. Al shook her hand and wished her a Merry Christmas. Tim gave Lyla a small hug and then waved good-bye as she left.

He felt Al looking up at him. He looked down and her blue eyes were clear, calm, honest.

"She's still in love with you, you know?"

Tim shook his head and put his hand on Al's waist, pulling her close. "No, she just thinks she is."


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Billy decided to close the garage from Christmas Eve until after New Year's. Al hadn't been pleased with that decision but Tim was. It felt like Winter Break which, along with Spring Break and Summer Vacation, were probably the only things from school that he would ever miss.

On Christmas Eve, Tim slept late and woke up alone, which was not surprising. Al was the first person he'd ever met who woke up ridiculously early on the weekends and holidays, even when she had no good reason to do so. He pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt, then went downstairs to find Al sitting on the couch with Bruno, a large book in her lap and a small glass in her hand.

Tim smiled sleepily and went into the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. He got a dog treat out of the jar and returned to the living room. He called the dog's name and whistled to get his attention, then waved the treat at him. The dog clambered off the couch and Tim gave him the treat, then stole his spot next to Al.

"Morning," he greeted her. Leaning in to kiss her, he pulled back abruptly when he smelled the Scotch on her breath. "Damn, Irish, it's a bit early in the morning for that, ain't it?"

He felt her tense up and sigh. "It's always 5 o'clock somewhere, you know. In fact, it's 5 o'clock in Ireland, right now."

Her sharp tone surprised him. He tucked his hand under her ponytail and rubbed the back of her neck. "Okay, okay. What are we looking at here?"

She sighed. "_I_ was looking at the dim and distant past, but if you want to look at it, you can."

She flipped the photo album to the beginning. The first couple of pages were Al in high school. Getting a prize at the science fair. Dressed up for a school dance. Giving the speech as class valedictorian. A tiny figure kicking a field goal on a snowy football field. Tim grinned.

"I still can't believe they let you play football," he teased.

"Let me, nothing. You ever hear of Title 9? Besides, none of the guys could kick worth shit."

Damn but she was prickly this morning. Tim had never seen her like this.

The next several pages were Al in college. She still looked young, but so much happier than in high school. Especially when she was photographed with this serious looking, clean-cut guy. He looked like the kind of guy who would have volunteered to be the hall monitor.

"Is that Stephen?"

Al nodded and Tim tried not to feel jealous. It was stupid, after all, they were just pictures in a book. Tim flipped through the pages a bit more quickly, still confused about why it bothered him at all.

"Where are your wedding pictures?"

"We eloped, remember? Didn't even think of pictures until someone at the courthouse asked us if we had a camera. We didn't think to bring our own witnesses either, had to borrow the bailiff and judge's secretary

Tim paused when he got to a page of pictures from when Al was pregnant. He couldn't help but laugh.

"You look like you're smuggling a basketball under your shirt."

She gave him a thin, tight-lipped smile, clearly not appreciating his sense of humor. It seemed like it was going to be one of those days when he couldn't do anything right. They hadn't had one of those days together yet.

Tim turned the page, Al decorating a large Christmas tree, her arm only able to reach a little more than half-way up the tree. Then there were a bunch of pictures of Al in the hospital, looking exhausted but happy and holding a tiny red-faced bundle.

Shit. It was at moments like this that Tim could believe he was exactly as stupid as people said he was. How could he not have realized that Avery's birthday would result in Crazy Scotch Drinking.

"Al, I'm sorry," Tim said softly, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for.

She shrugged but said nothing, then finished her drink and poured another, her eyes daring him to say something. He ducked his head and looked down to avoid her angry, challenging stare. He could handle sad drunks, he knew exactly what to do with a sad drunk sine he had experience on both sides of that story. But he could not handle angry drunks. He just couldn't. Sad drunks were at least predictable. Angry drunks were irrational and frightening.

He turned the pages slowly, not bothering to ask questions about who the other people were in the photograph. He guessed that the tall, stocky blonde men who all looked the same were her brothers and the older guy with slicked back hair had to be her father.

Tim turned the pages and watched a short life pass in front of him, the little girl growing from a tiny, red-faced bundle to a cute little baby with her mother's eyes. He felt his heart break as he studied a picture of Al feeding her daughter while reading _Curious George_. He wondered what he should do, if there was anything he could do to salvage this day.

When he reached the end of the book, Al closed it and put it on the coffee table. She was silent, stony even, and wouldn't look at him.

"So, what are we doing today?" he finally asked.

"I don't know what you're doing. I planned to be alone today."

"Alone and drinking?"

"Yes, Tim, alone and drinking." The way she said his name, it was worse than a slap in the face.

The unspoken question, "You got a problem with that?" hung in the air over them. He knew his answer, but he didn't know how to say it without causing a fight. Maybe he knew there was no way to say it without fighting and what he didn't know was whether he should fight with her over this. He hunched over and rested his elbows on his knees, then looked back at her.

"How long are you going to do this?" His voice was low, warm and concerned.

"Well, until the Scotch runs out or I pass out, whichever comes first. What do you think?"

He sighed. "That wasn't what I was asking you. How long are you going to do this to yourself?"

"I don't know. 50, 60 years? That sound about right to you?"

"Al, you made a mistake. And it had the worst imaginable consequence, but it's done. You can't change anything and you have to find a way to move past it."

"Move past it? Get over it?"

"Not exactly get over it. But for god's sake, you have to grow some scar tissue, you can't just keep re-opening the wound.

"Look, Al, you've mourned, you've punished yourself. Don't you think it's time now to give yourself permission to have a life? Because you're not living in the desert alone in a war zone anymore. Now you've got people who need you and want you in their lives, people who want to give you a future. But we can't do that if you're going to stay in the past, torturing yourself."

He sat back and put his arm along the back of the couch, facing her and waiting.

"You think it's that easy?"

He shook his head. "I don't think it's easy at all. But you don't do things because they're easy."

"Oh no, Tim, and why do you do them? Because they're right?"

He stared at her, surprised by the angry outburst.

"You think it's right that I should forgive myself?"she asked.

"Yeah, I do."

"So you want me to forget my daughter? Forget that I killed her? That it was all my fault?"

"That's not what I said at all and you know it."

"It's not what you said, but it's what you meant. It would be so much more convenient for you, wouldn't it?"

She was spinning and twisting his words so quickly, it was making him dizzy and confused. He was never going to be able to keep up with her, let alone reach her. He felt in that moment that she'd made her choice and it was to push him away. And he just didn't feel like he had the patience and strength left to fight her on it.

He stood and walked upstairs. Pulling his old Panthers duffle bag out of his closet, he stuffed it full of his clothes. He didn't know when he'd be back. He looked at Al's Christmas present, clumsily wrapped and hidden in his bottom drawer. While he imagined there would be a certain satisfaction in tossing it in her lap on his way out the door, something, some tiny scrap of hope, held him back from playing it that way.

Tim walked downstairs and put on his jacket.

"You're leaving then?"

He nodded. If he'd hoped that she would argue with him, call him back to her, he'd have been disappointed.

"Right....well, bye then. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Her tone was equal parts venom, resignation and grim satisfaction.

He sighed and walked out, closing the door firmly behind him. He hung his head as he walked to his truck, pulled the door open and tossed his bag over onto the passenger side. After he started the engine, he gave it a minute to warm up, warning himself not to look up, not to check for her at the window.

_Don't. Don't do it. Just don't_.

He failed in the end, but the only one watching him leave was Bruno.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim went over to Billy and Mindy's. He left his bag in the truck and pretended like he was just dropping by to hang out with his brother and visit his niece and nephew. After a couple of hours, Mindy announced that she was taking the kids to visit her mother. Billy helped her get Amber and TJ into the Mom-mobile and then rejoined his brother in the house.

Tim was sitting at the kitchen counter, well into his fourth beer. Billy sat down next to him, facing out into the living room so he could lean back against the counter.

"Hey, Billy, is it OK if I crash on your couch tonight?"

Billy shrugged. "Yeah, sure, although why don't you just call Al. I'm sure she'll pick you up if you don't want to drive."

"I can't call Al," said Tim, sliding the bottle back and forth between his hands.

"Sure you can."

"No, Billy, I can't. By this point, she's probably passed out cold, hopefully on the couch, but I wouldn't be surprised if she's outside. And even if she was in a fit state to drive, I don't think she'd want to be driving anywhere for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not for sure, but I think we broke up."

"You think?" Billy raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know. If a girl tells you not to let the door hit you on your way out, what do you think?"

"That ain't good at all. I'd say 80% of the time, that would mean a break up. At least 80%"

Tim shook his head sadly, folded his arms and put his head down on top of them.

"What happened?"

"Well, you know about her kid?"

Billy nodded.

"Today's her daughter's birthday and, as far as I can tell, her plans involved looking at pictures and drinking Scotch until she passed out."

"And you didn't like this plan and told her so?"

"No, I didn't like this plan. She was angry and she was drunk and I thought she had the drinking thing settled. You know me, I don't have any problem with drinking, even with getting drunk sometimes, but angry drunks.....I just can't do it."

Billy put his beer down on the counter. "Honestly, Tim, if it had been TJ or Amber, and I was responsible, I think I'd have the same plans. In fact, I think that would be my plan for all day, every day for the rest of my life... So what did you say to her?"

"Basically, I told her she couldn't keep doing this to herself and she needed to move on."

Billy gave a low whistle. "That was a bad idea."

"It was the truth."

"Timmy, I know you think you've got an idea of what she's been through, how hard it's been, but you have to multiply your idea by like a million to even get into the same time zone."

Tim pulled his head off his shoulders and sat up. "So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and watch her rip open the same damn wound all the time, just to bleed for no reason?"

Billy looked down at the ground. "If you care about this girl, that might be all you can do."

Tim turned around to face the same direction as Billy, leaning back to rest his elbow on the counter. He let out a deep breath. The brothers sat in silence, the only sound the steady clicking of the clock.

Tim was about to get another beer when the doorbell rang. He looked at Billy, who looked as surprised as he was.

"It's open," shouted Billy.

As the door opened, a big black blur pushed in and raced over to Tim, Helicopter Tail in full effect. Bruno. Tim had never been so happy to see a dog before, because he knew that Al would be close behind. He scratched Bruno's ears and watched Al walk in tentatively, giving Billy a small smile and a wave before turning her attention to Tim.

He felt the room shrinking down to just the two of them and was only dimly aware of Billy coughing and making a lame excuse in order to leave them alone, taking Bruno with him.

"You're here."

"Well, _you're_ here. Where the hell else am I going to go if I need to apologize?" Her husky voice was playful and after hearing all that bitterness this morning, Tim couldn't imagine a better sound.

She walked over and stood in front of him. Resting her hands lightly on his thighs. She was wearing his favorite outfit: well-worn jeans and a light blue peasant top.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice was all sincerity.

"For what?"

"For pushing you away. For letting you leave. For acting like what you want and need don't matter."

A tiny bit of him felt like he was giving in to her too easily, but the rest of him didn't care. Billy was right. Loving Al came with some additional complications and if they got easier, that was great, but if they didn't, then he had to get tougher. And this felt like a step in the right direction.

He put one hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck.

"It's over now." He kissed her, pulling her close and letting the kiss say everything else on his mind, everything else that he didn't know how to put into words.

When they finally came up for air, he smiled at her. "Did you drive here?"

She shook her head.

"You walked? It's gotta be almost ten miles."

"Yeah, it gave me a lot of time to think, I can tell you that."

"I bet. Think you're able to drive?"

She paused and considered it. "Yeah, I should be okay."

"Good." He stood up and handed her his keys. "I want to give you your Christmas present."

She gave him a wicked grin. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Well, that too, but no, I have an actual Christmas present for you."

Al whistled for Bruno, who trotted out from the back of the house with Billy right behind him. Billy looked a question at Tim, who nodded. Tim smiled as he watched his brother let out a sigh of relief and give him a huge grin.

"We'll be back tomorrow for Christmas," said Tim.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

Tim swore that Al was driving way more slowly than necessary, just to prolong the time before he got his present from her.

"Can't you just give me a hint?"

Al shook her head and smiled.

Bruno was riding in the cab with them and the dog was too big to sit between them, so he was sprawled half on Tim, who was always surprised by how damn heavy the dog was.

"Is it a puppy?"

"A puppy? Is Bruno not enough for you?"

"No, no, Bruno's great. I've just always wanted my own puppy."

"For real?" Al looked at him.

"For real. We never had a dog or anything. Jay's family had this big, stupid Lab who was so much fun."

"Is that what you'd want then, a Lab?"

"Nah. I'd want something big, bigger than Bruno. Like a wolfhound."

"An Irish Wolfhound? You're joking."

"No, I'm not. I've seen them on TV, in St. Patrick's Day parades. They're huge."

"Well, I don't know, young man, a puppy is a big responsibility."

Tim smiled. "I think I can handle it."

They pulled into the driveway and Tim got out quickly to unlock the front door and hold it open.

"I'll just run up and get it," said Tim.

"That's okay. Your present is in your room."

Tim looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "So that's what you're calling it now?"

She gave him a shove and raced up the stairs. He wasn't as quick off the mark and arrived in his room a few seconds after her, but still in time to see her pulling his present out from under the bed. It was huge and flat and he was clueless as to what it might be.

"I can't believe you hid my present under my bed."

"What? Like you were going to clean under there or something? It was the perfect hiding spot."

Tim tipped his head to the side in acknowledgement of the truth in that statement. He turned and pulled her gift out of his drawer.

"Who goes first?" he asked.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors," she said. He grinned because he could anticipate her trying paper, since last time she had the rock. He was right, so his scissors won the day.

"OK, I get to give you mine first." He handed over the small package, watching her closely.

She was one of those infuriating people who carefully peel off each piece of tape. He started to get fidgety.

"What, do you save the paper or something?"

"Nah, I'm just trying to make you crazy." She looked up at him and grinned. Then she finished with the last piece of tape and took the paper off slowly to reveal a My Pretty Pony and a gift certificate for a year of riding lessons at a ranch in Barton.

"You remembered!"

"Yeah, it's not a real pony."

"I love it anyway. Very thoughtful and you get high marks for originality." She stood up and kissed him, then took his hand and dragged him over to where his present was leaning against the bed.

He didn't go in for any of the ceremony that she did, choosing instead to grab a handful of paper in the middle and tear it off. He saw blue and white and tore more paper to reveal a bit of green. When he got all the paper off, he picked the present up and propped it up on top of his dresser.

It was a painting of the lake, sunlight glistening on the water, and a metallic silver boat waiting at the dock. A big Texas sky stretched across the top of the canvas and he could almost see the trees at the edges blowing in the breeze. It was perfect and he felt like he could step right into the painting and be back there, sitting out on the boat all night, listening to nothing.

"My God, Al, did you paint this?"

She gave him a small, proud smile and nodded.

"But when? And how do you know?"

"The early bird gets the worm and has plenty of time left over to paint and exercise and read and do any of a number of things. As for how I knew, I did some research."

He sat down and pulled her into a bone-crunching hug, resting his head on her shoulder so he could bury his face in her hair. He was glad that he'd held onto that bit of hope.


	30. Epilogue

**Author's Note: I know, the story could have stopped about three different places already, but these characters are so compelling to me and I've got nothing else to do right now. :) This epilogue is really my indulgence, so I hope you enjoy it and don't find it too long or cheesy. **

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

_Christmas Eve, Two Years Later_

Tim woke up early on Christmas Eve. Well, 9 am _was_ early for him on a day off. He showered and put on a clean pair of jeans, a Panthers t-shirt and the blue plaid flannel shirt that was Al's favorite. He went downstairs and found Al sitting at the table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

"You're up early," she said, a bit surprised.

"And you're observant."

He got a mug from the cupboard and walked over to the table, pausing in front of Al to put his free hand on her shoulder. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head and said quietly, "How are you today?"

She sighed and looked up at him with a small, grateful smile. "Not too bad, sad, but it's manageable."

He nodded as he sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Al slid the sports section over to him and they read the paper in silence for a while.

"So, any plans for today?" he finally asked.

Al looked up at him and he thought he caught her impish grin. "Not so much. Unless you have something planned?"

He stood up and stretched. "I wouldn't call it a plan, exactly, but I was just thinking recently that we've known each other for more than two years and I've never once seen you play football."

"Is that so?"

"It is. And I'm thinking that I need to verify these claims of yours. Can you really kick a field goal from 40 yards?"

"I could in high school, it's been awhile."

"Now see, that right there sounds like you're chicken."

"You are so wrong. Let's go then." She whistled for Bruno and went to get on her jacket and backpack.

He grinned as he watched her get indignant. It was so much fun to wind her up.

When they got outside, he opened the garage door and walked over to the workbench, where he'd left a couple of footballs.

"Nerf or regulation?"he asked, holding up both.

"Like you have to ask," she scoffed.

He dropped the Nerf football and grabbed the little plastic holder for kicking.

"So, we need to see if you can kick footballs _and_ if you can really tackle."

"I can tackle. I have seven brothers, remember?"

"I know, but still, I bet you a hundred bucks that you won't be able to tackle me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You still owe me a hundred bucks from the last time we bet."

"When was this?"

She opened her backpack and unzipped an inside pocket, then came out with a small leather holder. She opened a zipper on the holder, pulled out a tattered grocery receipt and handed it to Tim.

"Oh, right. From when the kids wrecked all my shirts and I had to raid Billy's closet. I remember now."

"What else do you have in this secret treasure chest?" He grinned and grabbed the holder from her.

"Tim, give it back." She tried to grab it from him, but his reflexes were too fast. He held it high above his head and laughed as she tried in vain to jump up and reach it.

"Collette, you make it too damn easy, you know? How tall are you again?"

"Four feet, ten and a half inches." She was still trying to get at the leather holder.

"Oh, that last half-inch makes all the difference, doesn't it?"

She kicked him lightly in the shin and then stepped back and crossed her arms. He pulled himself up onto the workbench and brought the holder down, giving her a chance to take it if she really didn't want him to see what was in it. He looked at her for a second, making sure he had her permission. She nodded and looked down.

It was a small rectangular case that unzipped to open up like a book. He unzipped it and looked inside. The hospital bracelet from when Avery was born. A picture of Avery from when she was a bit older, the girl sitting next to a stuffed monkey that was nearly as big as she was. Then there was a picture of Tim at the garage. He had no memory of it being taken, but he was leaning against a truck, arms folded and a big, warm smile on his face, like someone had just made him laugh.

He zipped up the case and gave it back to Al as he slipped off the workbench.

"Hey," he said softly so she looked up at him, giving the small bashful smile she always did after she let him a little further into her life.

He walked over and put an arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go play."

He guided her over to his truck and she gave him a puzzled look.

"But the park's just at the end of the street."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have goalposts. We'll go where I played pee-wee back in the day."

She was about to get into the truck, but then she told him she'd forgotten something and raced back into the house. While she was gone, he herded Bruno into the truck and pulled out his phone.

"Streeter? Yeah, give us maybe 20 minutes.... You don't want to get there too early. It'll look suspicious. Oh, and call Tyra for me? Thanks."

He tucked the phone back in his pocket and waited for Al to return. When she did, he didn't notice that she actually had anything on her.

"What you forget?"

"Huh?"

"You went in because you forgot something."

"Oh, right, I forgot if I turned off the oven, so I went in to check."

He raised an eyebrow and regarded her suspiciously, but then decided to let it slide. He put the truck in reverse and headed over to the park near Jason's house.

It was a beautiful day for December and it had been a surprisingly dry month. The field was dusty, reminding Tim of late summer practices. He parked the truck and they headed over to the field, tossing the ball between them to warm up as they walked, Bruno trotting happily beside them.

"Want to start with kick-offs? You start at the 40?"

"Yeah."

He set the ball up for her on the 40-yard line and then trotted out 20 yards. He grinned when she waved him back.

"Let's see what you got first, Mighty Mouse."

He could hear her cursing under her breath as she took slow, measured paces back from the ball and then ran up and kicked it in one graceful motion, sending it up into a beautiful arc. He moved his head as he watched it sail over, dropping down around the 15 yard line.

"OK, so I may have underestimated you." He shouted over his shoulder as he jogged back to collect the ball. He threw it back to her and moved to around the 20. He watched her set the ball up and then kick it, again a perfect kick, only this time he was ready.

He lined up under the ball and caught it. By force of habit, he cut across the field to get near the sideline, then ran hard up the field. He was puzzled to see that Al hadn't started running yet. He suppressed the urge to wave at her as he passed her, still standing where she'd kicked the ball.

He passed the 30, then the 25, and was about to pass the 20 yard line when Al slammed into his side, just under his ribs. Even though he had the obvious size advantage, she'd played it just right so that she was able to use his momentum against him to knock him off kilter and drive him down.

He hit the ground hard. The ball popped out of his hands and rolled a few yards up the field. Al wasted no time as she jumped up, grabbed the ball, and started to run in the other direction.

So she wants to play like that, he thought to himself as he popped up and took off after her. She was fast, but he was faster and managed to catch up with her near the 50 yard line. He timed his tackle perfectly, catching her just below the knees so he didn't crush or hurt her when they toppled to the ground.

Even so, he found himself holding his breath until he heard her laughter. She was tougher than he thought – he always had to remind himself of that fact. He also heard clapping from the sidelines.

"Nice, Timmy, I see your way of wooing a woman hasn't changed since we were seven."

"Jay Six." Tim grinned.

He stood up and then pulled Al up off the ground. He walked over to the sideline to greet his friend.

He shook Jason's hand and then crouched down to greet Noah, who was wearing one of his father's old Panther's jerseys, the shirt nearly hanging down to his knees.

"Little Six," he said, shaking the boy's hand.

"Good to see you again, Jason," said Al.

"Noah," he called to his son, "I want you to meet Uncle Timmy's girlfriend, Miss Al."

"Ah no, call me Al." She held out her hand to Noah.

"Al, you are going to ruin the good Southern manners I am trying to instill in my son. It's hard enough, you know, no one's got decent manners in North Jersey."

"Noah, want to play with me for a minute, give your dad a chance to talk to Uncle Timmy?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran off, shouting at her to throw the ball to him. She tossed it to him and then ran over to him and took the ball. She sent him long, in the direction of the parking lot. Then she sent a spiral pass flying high over his head.

"She had a little too much on that one. Who's she think she's throwing to?" asked Jason.

"No idea," said Tim distractedly.

Tim watched as Al called Noah over to her and said something to him that resulted in him nodding a lot and crossing his heart once. Then he ran back to them while Al jogged toward the parking lot where the ball had landed.

Tim's attention focused back on Noah when the boy arrived back to them.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

"Nothing. And I can't tell you anyway. Sorry, Uncle Timmy, but I promised," Noah said with a serious expression on his face that made Tim grin.

"It's a secret, huh? Well, we've got secrets of our own here, so don't you say anything to Al, got it?"

Noah nodded and crossed his heart again. Tim turned to Jason.

"You got it then?"

"Yeah, in the bag on the back of the chair, inside pocket."

Tim crouched behind the wheelchair and pulled out the velvet-lined box that was small enough to hide in his fist like a magician. He flipped the box open and smiled as he looked at the round-cut sapphire in a platinum setting. Perfect. He flipped the lid closed and stood up, the box hidden in his hand.

"Who's that with Al?" asked Noah.

"That would be Miss Tyra, and you _will_ call her Miss Tyra no matter what she says, got it?" said Jason.

"Got it," said Noah, bumping fists with his father.

When they got closer, Tim could see that Tyra was carrying the football and Al had her jacket off and was carrying it in her hands, holding one arm in a funny way.

Tyra greeted Jason and Noah, leaving Tim and Al to talk.

"You hurt your arm or something?" he asked, concerned that he might have hurt her while they were playing.

She shook her head and gave him her biggest impish grin. "Go on and have a seat on the bleachers there for a second."

He did as she asked and didn't realize how set up he'd been until she told him to close his eyes. He hoped he was able to keep Al's present hidden in his hand. He hadn't expected this. He felt her place something on his lap. He waited to open his eyes until she told him so, but he couldn't stop the happy, silly grin that broke out before he even saw the puppy.

The puppy was a dark grey wriggling mass with small floppy ears and a funny, squarish snout. It had a white spot on its chest and a white-tipped tail, which was currently wagging madly. Bruno came over to investigate, his head nearly bigger than the puppy.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked Al.

"Your very own Irish wolfhound. And he also comes with a crate, a leash, and several rounds of obedience classes."

"I love him."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he's going to love you too."

"How did you manage to do this? I had no idea. Not a hint of it."

Al grinned. "Remember that two-day class in on transmissions that Billy sent me to in Austin last month?"

Tim nodded.

"There was no class. I went to Austin to meet with a breeder and pick out your puppy. And beg and plead with Tyra to help me with the pick up and delivery, which you can see she very graciously did."

"Yeah, about that, I'm going to be sending you an itemized bill for two pairs of shoes and one throw rug," said Tyra.

"What are you going to name him, Uncle Timmy?" asked Noah.

"I dunno, Noah. What would you name him?"

The boy shrugged. "Grey?"

A line from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon popped into his head. "I'll love him and I'll hug him and I'll name him George."

"George is a good name," said Al.

"I agree," said Tyra.

"George," called Jason, laughing when the puppy looked up.

"George it is then," said Tim as he stood up. He put the puppy in Noah's lap.

"OK then, your turn. C'mere." He reached out a hand and pulled Al over, motioning for her to sit down. She did as he asked and closed her eyes even before he told her.

Tim took a deep breath, glancing at Six for reassurance. His friend smiled and nodded. Tim knelt down and took Al's hand. He flipped the box open with his thumb.

"Open your eyes."

He watched her eyes snap open and move from his face, to the ring, and back. Eyes widening first with surprise, then filling with tears.

"I've never met anyone who understands me as well as you do. I told you a long time ago that we make a great team. I still think that and now, I want to make it permanent. Al, will you marry me, please?"

Al nodded.

Tim sat down next to her. He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger, surprised that both of their hands were slightly shaking. He kissed her until Noah protested that it was yucky, which made Al giggle.

"Congratulations, guys," said Jason. Al scrambled off the bleachers to hug Tyra and Jason.

Tim went over to hug Tyra, who looked really, genuinely happy for him.

"Mindy will tell you herself when she hears, but -"

"I know, Tyra, I know," interrupted Tim in a tired voice. "She'll kick my ass into the middle of next week if I mess this up and hurt Al."

Tyra smiled and shook her head. "No, well, I mean yes, that's true. But she isn't in the habit of repeating herself. That's not what I was going to say."

"Then what is it?" Tim asked with a raised eyebrow.

"This is exactly what she hoped for when she told Al to stay."

"Me, or just some guy?"

"You, Tim, you. Mindy always knew you two were made for each other."

Tim smiled and gave Tyra another hug, whispering "Thank you" to her softly.

Al came over and put her arm around Tim's waist.

"So now it's my turn to ask. How'd you do this?"

"Well, like you, I had a trip with a plausible cover story and help from a friend."

"Your trip this fall to NYC?"

"Yep, very good shopping there. But in the end, I decided nothing was quite right and had that ring specially made, which took forever. Six kindly volunteered for pickup and delivery duty so I didn't have to worry about it getting lost when it was shipped."

"You're good. This was a total surprise."

"There's only one thing," said Tim, looking down at her with a grin.

"What's that?"

"I need to know the real name of the woman I'm marrying."

She shook her head.

"Tim, I don't even know her real name. She was Al before I was born. She's just always been Al," said Tyra.

"You really don't know it yet? Billy hasn't told you?"

"Nope. And I've asked your brothers whenever they called and I answered the phone, but no one would give me even the slightest hint. You know, for such a little person, you inspire real fear in people."

Al smiled. "That's how it should be."

"Please tell me?" asked Tim.

Al sighed and looked up at him. She took his hand and dragged him halfway across the field, far enough from their friends that she wouldn't be overheard.

"C'mere, I'm only going to whisper this in your ear and I'm only going to say it once, so you better listen. And don't you dare repeat it out loud, no matter how funny it seems to you."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim leaned way down and waited while Al brushed his hair back and cupped her hands around his ear like a little kid would.

He held his breath and waited. Her voice was almost lower than whisper-quiet.

"Angel Rose."

She was right, he couldn't help it. The laughter exploded out of him, uncontrollable and loud. She thumped him hard in the arm, her little fist packing quite a punch.

That was a good name for a porcelain doll of a girl. Not the car-fixing, football-playing, hand-crushing, ass-kicking woman that he'd fallen in love with. The toughest woman he knew.

"It's a beautiful name," he told her. "For someone else. You're definitely Al."

"That's what I've been telling you." She smiled.

He straightened up and noticed a familiar dark-haired figure approach Six and lean down to kiss his cheek. Al and Tim walked back to the bleachers.

"Uncle Timmy, this is Miss Lyla," announced Noah proudly. He was sitting on the bleachers next to Tyra, both of them trying to keep the puppy from falling off the narrow bench, while Bruno looked on in quiet confusion.

Tim grinned. "Yeah, we've met. Good manners though, buddy."

"Tim, Al." Lyla nodded at them stiffly.

"Haven't seen your car in the garage in ages. Buddy find a mechanic up in Nashville that he trusts?" asked Al.

Lyla blushed. "Not exactly, but I told him my car, my problem, you know?"

"Garrity, how's Vanderbilt treating you?" Tim could see her trying to fight off her awkwardness and act naturally.

"Good, I graduate in the spring."

"Lyla's trying to decide between med school and law school," said Jason with a hint of pride in his voice.

Lyla ducked her head and started to mumble. "Well, I still need to get in somewhere. That might make my decision for me."

"You're seriously considering both? Like you've taken the MCAT and the LSAT both?" asked Al.

Lyla nodded.

"Let me ask you a question – if you saw someone get hit by a car in the parking lot just over there, what would you do?"

"Call 911, go over and see what the situation was, give first aid if possible."

"And while you were giving first aid, what would you be thinking."

Lyla closed her eyes and paused, picturing the situation and considering her possible reaction and thoughts.

"I'd follow the procedures I learned in first aid class and hope to God I didn't mess it up."

"Med school, definitely," said Al with a grin.

"Why?" asked Lyla.

"Because that's your instinct – to help someone else without thinking. If you were going to worry about liability or blame or responsibility, then you'd be better off in law school."

As the girls talked, Tim looked around at his friends and thought about everything they'd been through and how they'd come out on the other side. He had always loved his friends and was grateful that they still cared about him, despite how much he'd screwed up along the way.

And then there was Al, who was leaning against him slightly. He felt like she was the one thing in his life that he'd gotten exactly right.

"Miss Lyla," said Noah, bringing Tim's puppy over to him. "This is George, Uncle Timmy's new puppy. Al just gived it to him and then he gived her a ring and now they're going to get married. Well, maybe not like right this second, but some day soon."

"Gave, Noah, not gived." Jason corrected his son softly while giving Tim an apologetic smile.

Lyla looked up at Tim, her eyes wide with surprise.

"For real?" she asked.

"For real," he said.

She looked flustered but recovered well, her voice warm and sincere as she wished them both congratulations and admired Al's ring.

"You know, y'all if I'd realized this was going to be a school reunion, I woulda invited Landry along,"said Tyra.

"Yeah and he'd invite Saracen." Jason smiled.

"Who would bring Julie," said Lyla.

Tim shrugged and pulled out his phone, passing it to Tyra. "Why not? We got all day."


End file.
